All Three Worlds
by Masked By Obsidian
Summary: Richard swallowed carefully as he looked at Door's matted hair. He didn't know why he had stepped through the door when the Marquis invited him, nor did he know why the spear that killed the Beast was singing to him even as the Marquis offered it to him. He didn't even want to know why Door was holding a little boy with black hair and a lightning bolt scar. But he smiled. "I'm in."
1. Chapter 1

Richard swallowed carefully as he looked at Door's matted hair. This was a REALLY badly thought out decision - He didn't know why he had stepped through the door when the Marquis invited him, nor did he know why the spear that killed the Beast was singing to him even as the Marquis offered it to him. He didn't even want to know why Door was holding a little boy with black hair and a lighting bolt scar.

The Marquis had smirked, handed Richard the spear, ordered both adults (how old was Door?) to follow him. That's when Richard realized that they weren't in the sewers like he'd been expecting, but rather, they were standing in front of identical houses.

"So. This kid's English name is Harry James Potter, courtesy of his In-Betweener-Father. His Fae heritage is through his dear departed mother, and as I'm making sure one of the Fae are taken care of, my debt to them is complete. Door, I've brought you Richard, and Richard, I've brought you to Door - you both owe me, but one of those debts is repaid by Door taking care of the kid until he's seventeen. Do try not to die, Richard, Door." And the Marquis twirled around, disappearing into... someplace.

Richard had forgotten how annoying the bastard was, and how confusing everything in London Below was.

"I don't think I understand. Fae? In-Betweener-Father? How did the Marquis get the spear? What-?"

"Well, remember how I said parts of time were trapped in London Below? The Fae are part of that. Druids, Sidhe, Fae, whatever you call them, lived in Ireland, spread to Scotland and then to England, playing little tricks. Then they started going underground... basically, the Fae are the oldest parts of London Below, but under all of... well... Europe. They have different names in different places; in France they're like the Veela's ancestors... Changelings are Fae children who are simply more suited to the human world, so they replace them with human slaves - you know the old Irish myths, right?"

Richard nodded, pretending to understand the 'Changelings' bit.

"Well, Lily was a changeling, and she remembered the Fae world, too. We met a few times, and she told me about the in-betweeners. See... you know Merlin?"

"Not personally. But I've read books. And Arthur was the more famous one in the books."

"Well, there's a whole community of wizards and witches, and they have little pockets of England squirreled away for themselves, little bits blending in with London Above - like the Leaky Cauldron and the Hogwarts Express - and with London Bellow - like Knockturn Alley. You'll figure it out later. But Lily got married to some In-Betweener called James, and they have little Harry. They also have a big war, I dunno the details, but Hunter killed a couple-a dragons. And. We have to take care of Harry, who's part Fae and part In-betweener until he goes to some school called Hogwarts at age eleven, and we can get him back for the summers, and he comes 'of age' when he's seventeen."

Richard decided he needed either sleep or some Earl Gray to deal with this, and he said so.

"Mm-hm. I agree. Now let's go to my old family house, I'm sure that's a good place to raise a boy. And we need to tell him his Fae name to unlock his Fae powers, but supposedly it died with Lily - his mom. At least, the Marquis said supposedly, so that means he expects us to figure it out. At least there's a letter explaining things. It was written by the head In-betweener, Dumbledore."

And Door slipped into the Sewers through the gutters - without hurting Harry - leaving Richard to follow while awkwardly handling the spear and knife. Well, he did ask for it.


	2. Chapter 2

After a few long twists and turns and a visit to Old Bailey, Door and Richard found themselves in Door's old mansion with an owl, lots of baby-things, a few story-books ('The Grimm Tales' Richard knew, but 'Beadle and the Bard'? 'Rats and Snakes'? 'Knives and Spears'? What were these stories?) and a young man with amber eyes named Wolf who would come and a) teach Richard to fight, and b) teach Harry to, um, toilet, and um, stuff.

In return? Harry's baby blanket to Old Bailey, Richard's shoes ("Don't worry, you'll just wear my Dad's old shoes." whispered Door), and Harry's basket for the books. Apparently, the promise that Wolf could stay in the mansion safely, with a room to lock himself in, and food to eat, while he taught Richard and Harry their respective, erm, subjects, was enough payment.

And in this case, the Floating Market was in Knockturn Alley, allowing Richard to see London Between for the first time.

Everyone was wearing dresses.

So Richard glanced around and went straight back into Knockturn, which was wilder and crazier, but no one wore dresses and Door was there. So. It was better. (And he was shoe-less when he went into the Between-London street, so all the folks there stared. At him. Even though he wore pants and they wore dresses.)

When Richard found Door again, near a store that smelled like... um... Harry was too young to hear it, anyway... Door was writing a letter.

Using a feather. On Parchment.

"You know, you could just use a ballpoint?" He offered, even as Wolf's eyes flashed in amusement. Wolf was holding the child gently. Richard decided that if Wolf hurt Harry, then he would use Hunter's knife (even if he had no clue how to do so).

"Well, yeah. But Veela are Fae, y'know, they like the living and breathing materials. That's kinda why London Between's so old. Cause magic likes to breath and feel breath, so feathers and parchment and stone and wood instead of plastic. And yes, the Veela can sense if you write in ballpoint and get offended. They're kinda like cats - they'll hiss and make you beg. But also like rats, cause they travel in groups and are very family-orriented. So it's OK."

"Er. Ok. The Betweenness are the ones wearing dresses, then?" Richard asked. Wolf laughed out loud, and Richard snapped.

"OK, what is wrong with you? Wolf isn't a name, and you're - your eyes - look, they're all scared of you, and you don't look scary, but you are, and it's weird and -"  
"I'm a were-wolf. That's why I needed a room to lock myself in, for when I turn. And the Lady Door know. You must be Richard?"

"Er." Richard's mind stopped at the word "were-wolf", then remembered that the Marquis was dead and had come back, that he had met an angel, and that Coup wasn't human, either. So he decided not to be surprised, and break down later instead.

"Um. Yes. Richard. Richard Mayhew. Dick. And you are?"

"Remus Lupin. And I swear my name's a coincidence; my parents weren't seers or anything."

Seers. Right.

"Pleasure to meet you." And that was that.


	3. Chapter 3

Remus John Lupin had the best luck in the world. After all, he had just found his nephew (sort of).

He was a werewolf. Had he not been a werewolf, then - while still friends with Peter and James (and The Traitor) - he would have met a nice girl, married, and never have caught wind of Harry's whereabouts. Which girl wants a werewolf? And he couldn't inflict himself upon these poor people that had no idea how to deal with him! Instead, he was going anywhere and everywhere, sniffing around to catch Harry's unique scent, trying to find him. Oh, he did try #4 Private Drive... Harry's scent was there. And it went down to the sewers. Remus knew what it meant - he was a werewolf, thank you very much, he went to London Below quiet often. So he followed the scent, came to the floating market, and what do you know? The Lady Door was taking care of _his_ cub. Well, Lady Door may be Lady Door. But she wasn't doing this without his help, whether she wanted it or not. He knew how to fight, he could be a body-guard.

And, once they trusted him, he'll tell them about James and Peter and... Sirius... and he'll tell Harry all the stories about the Marauders. (It was strange that Peter smelled of fear and Blood and the salty tinge of not-trusty-ness and Sirius always smelled of, well, Sirius).

Not to mention, Lady Door's mansion was quiet big. Once he'd swore a blood oath (I swear to help protect Harry James Potter no matter what. I swear not to tell anyone about the location of Harry James Potter, Lady Door and Richard Mayhew. I swear to help and protect the three aforementioned people as much as I can, and to be loyal to them in all things, so long as the adults protect Harry James Potter. If I betray my oath, may Magic stop my heart and spill my blood and burn my body)... well, he it seemed they trusted him implicitly. Good.

Then Door dropped the bombshell: "My sister. Ingress. I don't know where she is, and I want to go looking for her. So we'll be in the mansion itself once or twice a month, a few days at a time. And we'll be traveling the rest of the time."

Well. That wouldn't do at all, would it? Harry needed a Home, and he could NOT teach Richard to throw spears and whatnot on the _run_.

"Do you have a bit of her blood? I can do a rather complex tracking charm... Hopefully, anyway." Judging from the surprised look Door gave him, she had no clue such a thing existed. It didn't. Remus had invented two versions, so the Marauders could find each other after drunk parties and nights in the forest on the Full Moon.

"What. Blood to do a tracking charm?" Richard was very muggle. And very lost. So very unlike Lily, who was willing to dive into anything.

"Yes. I may be a werewolf, but I _was_ an in-betweener for a bit. Actually, we tend to call ourselves Witches and Wizards, and I just _happen_ to have a few magic theory books in my bag, if you want to look thing up. I expect to teach Harry the less general things that aren't taught, like a few tracking charms, and warding, and how to fight, like I'll be teaching you. In return for a place to lock myself in during the full moons. And food, of course. Like we already decided." internally, Remus Lupin was tensing. If they tried taking Harry - his cub - away from him...

Richard opened and closed his mouth a few times. Lady Door straightened and cleared her throat.

"If I gave you the blood now, could you do the tracking charm now? What else can you do with her blood?"

"A small tracking charm would give her coordinates. But, if you give me a few hours, I'll set up a rune-ritual, and then you'd know her coordinates whenever she moved, her physical and mental state, whether she lives in Above, Bellow or Between London, and what she remembers of you and her family and such. Assuming she's in London, or in the general surrounding area, of course." Remus Lupin was fully confident he'd be able to do this - It wasn't too different from combining a Pensive, the Marauders Map, Blood Wards, the Patronus Charm, and a few healing spells. All things he'd studied before, whether with Lily (the first and third and last in-debth), or with James and Peter (and _Sirius_ , his mind hissed)...

Door stared.

"All that?" Richard asked, blinking slowly. "Only a few hours?" Then his eyes narrowed. "What's the price?"

Ah, the boy was learning how Below worked.  
"Chocolate. Lots of it. The chance to buy books every so often. And the chance to take Harry into London Between when he's five to get him his first wand - I want him to be ready to fight with magic."

Door frowned.

"Harry won't be going to Between London alone, and neither will he be going just with you. One of us will go too." Richard nodded, stepping up and straightening his back. He was already protective of the little tyke and no one would just the boy under his watch. While Remus was hurt slightly that they didn't trust him even after the oath, Moony approved. The Child was pack. The Humans were trying to protect Pack.

And if Moony approved, the Remus approved too. At least, in this particular case.

"Deal. When can I get started?"

While Door ran off to contact the Veela or whatever they were, to help Harry understand his Fae-quirkyness or whatever, Richard was left with bouncing the baby, offering him a bottle of formula and generally failing to sing. Meanwhile, as he watched, the Wolf - Remus, right, Remus Lupin - inked runes upon the floor of Ingress' room, then upon the ceiling, before taking a large sheet of parchment, waving a stick at it, and stepping back. The Parchment floated over and stuck to the wall, and then Wolf flicked a few drops of Ingress' blood at it.

Which Door had had in a vile. That wasn't creepy at all.

"It keeps us safe - that's how I knew, instinctively, that Ingress was alive. Her bottle hadn't shattered. When we die, our bottles shatter and the blood turns black. Speaking of which, we should make you and Remus and Harry a bottle, too. After I get the Veela." And Door ran off, muttering about Owls eating her poor rats and how annoying those tests were. And how the rats were muttering about a not-rat. She was muttering about three things at once.

Richard had ignored her.

Now, however, Harry was sucking at his baby bottle, which Richard held (rather awkwardly, too), while Harry held his sleeve. They still hadn't read the letter that was left on top of Harry, from some guy called Dumbledore. And now Wolf - Remus, dammit! - was placing blood carefully in the middle of some of the runes, before taking a basin (not silver, please, preferably pewter, actually...) and placing it in the middle of the floor. The runes formed a vaguely flower-like shape around the basin... which was filled with water after Wolf - Remus John Lupin goddammit - waved his wand and muttered something.

Then the water started to glow, and Remus - finally! - poured something silvery into it. ("Lady Door, for the ritual to work, I'll need your memories of Ingress. You'll still have them, I'll just have a copy. If you don't mind, I'll press my wand to you temple and just draw them out of your mind. Just think really hard about Ingress...") Richard starred.

Slowly, the flecks of blood on the parchment faded, then the inky runes unstuck from the floor and moved into the parchment, which began to read:  
 _INGRESS OF THE HOUSE OF LADY DOOR:_  
 _PHYSICALLY HEALTHY; AGE 6; Is now a metamorphmagus due to a blood adoption_

 _LONDON ABOVE - ADRESS: #44 Something Ave, Hyde Park._

 _REMEMBERS NOTHING OF LADY DOOR - Repressed all memories, was Blood Adopted by Ted Tonks and Adromeda Black-Tonks._

 _Current name: Nymphadora Tonks_

 _Emotional State: Happy_

 _Currently walking down Someplace Street to Hyde Park._

Richard stared. Remus stared. Harry gurgled. Then Door rushed back in, smiling happily.

"Aunt Apolline said she'll come over with her daughter to teach Harry about Fae on the condition that Fleur learns to fight! They're going to start coming every day in two years, when Harry's three and Fleur's six, every day! D'you know where Ingress is?" Richard recovered faster than Remus - he was used to Door, at least.

"Erm. The parchment there says some interesting stuff. I don't know what all of it means, but maybe we could get Remus here to slowly get her memories back?"

Door frowned at the parchment, muttering to herself. Then she nodded, sharply.

"Right. I can get the rats to give her her memories every night for... let's see... Hmm, if I hang a few proper dream-runes, then she'll remember certain things every night instead of dreams, and in two years, she'll remember everything. I can just pop in and hang the runes in her bedroom right now! Well, it'll take a few hours... but I'll be back in a jiffy with more formulas and my sister will remember in two years! Oh! Maybe she'll join us for training. And I'll ask the rats about the not-rat -man while I'm at it. Remus, Richard, I want you guys to figure out what Harry likes. And read Dumbledore's letter, while you're at it." And once again, Lady Door turned and spun away.

Remus and Richard gave each other semi-bewildered looks. Harry began to cry.

Neither men knew how to change a baby's... er... discharge. This would be a very long wait. At least Remus was patient, and Richard was willing to learn.


	4. Chapter 4

When Remus and Richard finally cleaned out Harry, Remus sent Richard on a workout.

"Jog around the living room, run though the hall, swim across the pool, swim back, run through the hall, jog around the living room... so on and so forth. I'll be telling Harry stories meanwhile. And we'll be in the living room, so you'd see us on every run. Any questions? no? Go!" And Richard, quickly changing into a pair of Door's father's swimming trunks, ran. When Remus' eyes glinted with that yellow, you followed orders.

The spear, thrown across the couch awkwardly, was still singing to him. It was like a whisper at the back of his mind, and he refused to tell Remus because they just met today, and Door would think him mad.

 _Hunter... Hunter... Hunter..._

The spear sang to him. He could feel it filling him with energy, and he knew, without a doubt, that while he would fail - miserably - at using any other weapon, the Spear that had killed the Beast would work for him. The Spear that Coup had given Hunter in exchange for Door and Richard. It had sung to him from the moment he picked it up, but he wasn't quite paying attention then - Door was being held by Islington, he wasn't going to be held up by something so mundane as a singing spear.

A spear that was carved on. He was aware of it even now, as he did his best to swim across the pool. He knew how to swim - he lived on an ISLAND - but really, all the jogging and running was annoying. And then his legs were KILLING by the time he jumped into the pool. At least he was able to use his arms and hands.

Which really should be holding the spear, his mind insisted.

He was the Hunter, the spear whispered.  
The previous Hunter had chosen him.

He was the Hunter, and now that he had begun establishing London Below as his territory, he would have to kill any threat to his rule.

Just as the previous Hunter had gone around, defeating the Tiger and the Bear, now he would have to defeat any other Alphas. He wasn't after humans, their petty politics didn't matter to the Spear.

He was the Hunter, and he was to defend his territory.

Then Richard realized that, hello, he had no clue what he was doing - only that a Spear was singing to him, and he was certain that he was going mad. He really, REALLY should talk to Door.

Remus coo'd at Harry, telling me stories, alternating between Marauder pranks, Beadle & Bard tales, Grimm fairy tales, and Things That Lily Did After James Annoyed Her.

Harry, being a whole year old, was busy chewing on a complicated wooden figuring of a woman turning into a tree. Or a tree turning into a woman... or half woman half tree? Anyway, it seemed to be part of a set, where that figuring was placed next to a river with a large horned figure rising out of it, and a young man wearing a toga and holding a lyre chasing after the woman-tree hybrid.

Apollo and Daphne.

Or, Apollo and Chewed-On Daphne.

Remus was certain that the figuring wouldn't mind - at least Harry wasn't chewing on anything else. Like that really creepy statue of a boar-thing. _Beast,_ Moony hissed. _Beast - defeated by Hunter._

There was an odd reverence on the word Hunter... the type that Moony almost placed on James. Almost. James was in in-betweener, he couldn't be Alpha Male. Door was undeniably Alpha female, and Moony accepted this Hunter person as Alpha male without even fighting. That was odd, and frightening. What if this Hunter person wanted to hurt Harry? Would Moony not protect him? Moony accepted Harry as pack -

Richard jogged into the room, his eyes flicking over to Harry, and then sliding onto the Spear on the couch. His eyes stayed on the spear until he jogged out, speeding up on the hallway.

 _Hunter,_ Moony hissed.

Ah. That complicated things. What was Remus supposed to teach a man who had defeated the Beast? According to Moony's emotions (and everything he'd learned from wandering London Below), the Hunter-ness had to be a) passed on from the previous Hunter, and b) had to be a specific state of mind - a willingness to protect his territory, and a willingness to kill those who trespassed it. Like a king, Remus thought. So the previous Hunter must have died due to the loss of the second, which invariably led to the lost of the Hunter-ing-ness. She got caught up in the Hunt, and forgot to be the Hunter.

That was too complicated. Remus concentrated on explaining the time Lily had shaved James and hung him upside down by his ankles in the middle of the Transfiguration classroom, for all to see. That was in their fourth year...

Door tensed as she slipped into the house. She had seen her sister - oh, Ingress looked different, but it was Ingress, Ingress, Ingress - outside, in the park, with her "Parents". She slipped in through the window, found Ingress's room, and quickly pulled the mattress off the bed. Then she began to carve into the bed itself, runes of memory, of remembering, of understanding, of Sight. It didn't take long - her knife was very sharp. She was good at this. And she wanted nothing more than for Ingress to come home. Door pulled out a few pre-made Dream Catchers (thank you, Floating Marked - Information about London Between could get you a fair bit of important things) and hung them on the ceiling, some right above the bed, one upon the window, one under the bed, one on top of the desk... quickly, she turned the Dream Catchers on. There! Now they would shimmer, and over the course of two years, as Ingress' memory returned, they too would solidify. Until then, they would be invisible.

Now, time for the rats. There would be one in the nearest sewer, of course, and that sewer would lead her home, just as every sewer did.

A few moments in the dank, dark, comforting place she had lived her life in, and a small rat appeared in front of her. Door knelt to talk to it.

"Yes? Oh, how nice of you to come, Mr. Black-eyes. Yes, yes... Hhm... a missing toe?"

"Chit! Chitter chitter chitter! Squeak!" Said the rat.

"I see. This was a man. He turned into a rat and he is... my enemy? No? Ah, Harry's enemy... And someone elses? Whose? The Wolf is my friend! There are two were-wolves in Below, and both happen to be after Harry? Remus I understand... Wait, the other were-wolf is also an inbetweener? And he challenges Hunter's territory? Hunter is dead! What - Who- I don't understand!"

"SQUEAK!" 

"Alright! I'll tell Remus and Richard that there's a were called Greyback wandering around. Now can we please get back to the not-really-rat-man who's missing a toe and doesn't like Harry? And can you climb and sit on my shoulder? I want to get home."


	5. Chapter 5

Door blinked at Richard.

Richard shrugged, still holding the spear, though less awkwardly.

"And then Death said to the brothers..." floated through the door, accompanied by a gurgle. Remus was occupied with Harry, and Richard couldn't be too worried about the gentle man overhearing - he had promised to never betray them or their secrets.

"Well, Richard, just so you know, if you ever get the urge to go out and Hunt, the rats are saying that some were-wolf called Greyback is looking for Harry, and since he's gone through all of London Between, he's going to look through Below. So your urge to Hunt is probably just Greyback threatening your territory, in which case I fully support you bringing me his carcass. But meanwhile, just get better at spearing your enemies. Prey. Whatever you call them. I'm getting Apolline to start coming over to babysit, or teach us how to do baby-things. Apparently, she wants to take a look at the runes I used to return Ingress's memory..."

"Um, what's so special about them?"

"Well... pockets of time are frozen throughout London. I'm using the runes that the Celtic Druids used before the Romans came. Speaking of time and babies, I'll need more posies, and -"

"I'm sorry. Posies?"

"Ring around the Rosie, a Pocket-full of Posies, Ashes Ashes, we all fall down? It's about the Black Plague - a rose-red spot with a ring around it is the symptom, and while Posies help with minor illnesses, they won't stop the plague. Ashes of the cremated bodies will make us fall down dead. So yes, I'm getting Posies for Harry - they'll help with coughs."

"..."

Remus frowned, bouncing Harry a bit. If he had caught the exchange correctly, Richard was going to go after Greyback, kill him, and bring back Greyback's skin for Door. He wasn't fully against it - first of, Greyback wanted Harry. No. Second of all, Greyback fought on _His_ side during the War. Once again, no. And third of all... Grey back turned him into a were. It was Greyback's fault that he was what he was. So he really was quiet all right with the impending death of the killer.

What he _wasn't_ all right with was the 'pockets of time in London Below'. Admittedly, he hadn't been in London Below often, just some of the sewers, a few Floating Markets. The Tower of London, to talk to some of the ghosts.

There were pockets of time.

Time was dangerous - Remus knew this very well. Most of the time that got saved, remembered, was the time that was dangerous. Humans remembered separate moments of danger and fear and despair and hate far better than separate moments of love and happiness. So the moments of time were probably the most dangerous ones - The Roman Army coming. The Black Plague. The Viking Attack. William the Conquerer.  
England had a very bloody history - he almost couldn't believe that a "gentleman" was no the "classical Englishman", not when most of England's history was that of death. And stubbornness. Death the stubbornness.

Rather like Harry - so much death (his parents) and war (The War, the one he ended) was centered around this little boy, and he was so stubborn, with the way he bit his lip and scrunched his eyebrows and tried again with whatever he wanted to do.

Nothing was allowed to hurt Harry.

Apolline came over the next day, appearing in the center of the room, holding a little three-year-old girl.

She was imposing - tall, blonde, with a straight back and a Presence that made Richard want to snarl. Door was in charge here! Who was this - this ninny? She wasn't Alpha.

And before he knew it, he was standing, his spear pointing toward the Lady. Oh. So this is why Door asked Remus and Harry to be in the garden (Forest [Door has her own FOREST?]) when Apolline first appeared.

The woman raised an imperious eyebrow. Richard raised his own.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I am Apolline, I come by Door's invitation."

"Lady Door's invitation. And, I'm sure you wouldn't mine if I ask for proof." Richard needed her to submit. His voice was frigid, and he needed to admit at least one mistake. Now. This huge Bird - Red Kite, Honey Buzzard, this hunter-animal - needed to admit him to be in charge.

Or he would quench its Fire. It was that simple.

The woman hesitated, and he bared his teeth.

She swallowed, arms around the sleeping three-year-old, bending her head forward - baring the neck - and pulling out the invitation.

"Lady Door, then. I apologize."

Richard relaxed immediately, throwing himself onto an armchair. Door got up from the couch, stretching - you couldn't think she was Alpha just by looking at her.

"Well, Mrs. Apolline Delacour, I suppose the baby is Fleur? And the deal is as such: You will help Harry with his fae-ness when he is old enough, but for now you just babysit. In return, we'll show Fleur a bit of London Below so that she isn't just a delicate flower. Agreed?" 

"I agree."

And that was how Apoline came over from 8:00 to 12:00 in the morning, to babysit Fleur and Harry (with Fleur learning Fae and Harry watching), while Remus and Richard trained and went to the Floating Market to get news. From 1:00 to 4:00, Fleur and Harry would visit various places -

Look. Here is the Roman Camp.

Here is the remains of a village from the Black Plague.

This is where the Vikings first sacked a town.

Here is how you hold a knife, and here is how you throw one. By the time you're five, I expect you both to be able to do this.


	6. Chapter 6

Fae magic was _complicated._ When it was 'turned on', iron and salt hurt him, but he was better with words.  
What word had Mummy Door used? _Chars'mat-ic._ Or something. Plus, his eyes glowed. A bit. Not a lot. But he knew what people wanted and were afraid of! Well, afraid of. Wanted was a LOT harder.

But the contracts were the hardest. He had to learn to never agree to anything. EVER. After all, Fae couldn't lie, but as a result, everything was a magical 'contract'. So, when he asked the Flower-girl "Will you help me?", if she had answered "yes" then she would have to help him with everything.

That was complicated.

Flower-girl said "We'll see." It was harder for her, though - she couldn't turn off her Fae completely, like he could.

Then again, she could throw fireballs. And he couldn't. Unfair.

Flower-girl threw a knife at him.

"HEY!"

"Stop dreaming!"

Harry didn't bother with words. Her French accent was terrible, and he heard high and gentlemanly accents (courtesy of Richard and Remus) and weird cockney Downtown-London (courtesy of living in London Below).

No, Harry didn't bother with words. Flower-girl was immune to Charisma, anyway.

Harry tackled her. She was three years older than him.

He had seen a pocket of the 1920s, when gangs had ranged due to the Great Depression. That was when the famous Glasgow Smile became widespread. So Harry had seen a lot of hand-to-hand fighting (not that he was good at it - he just had the excitement). And Flower-girl didn't like hurting Harry. He still wasn't winning. Unfair.

"FLEUR! HARRY! What are you two doing? Get here RIGHT NOW."  
Mummy Door was very scary. Harry pushed his long hair away and blinked green eyes at her. Fleur hugged herself, looking down slightly, letting silver hair swing around her. Pout, pout, pout.

"That doesn't work on me." It worked on her. Mummy was already smiling.

"Harry, you're going with Richard to the Marquise - he's looking at your scar, because it still hasn't settled. Don't know what he'll ask for... And Fleur? You and Remus are going to find information about Greyback. He's been getting too close... sniffing around the Roman Encampment, I was there only last week! I, meanwhile, will be looking for my sister. Now... SCAT!"

Fleur and Harry scatted. Er. Scooted? Scet? He was four - he shouldn't worry about such things, anyway. All he understood was that he had to go with Richard, and everything else made no sense. But that's OK. It didn't matter.

"So... what's wrong with his scar?" Richard's eyes were cold as he took in a sleeping Harry on the cot. Well. It was a table with a crude mattress on top.

"It appears to be a soul shard." The Marquis' voice was oily.

"I see. And for this diagnosis, I suppose I don't owe you anymore? After all, _you_ owe the fae, so by asking you to look over Harry's scar, we are making sure you fulfill your duties. And, if you get rid of this so-called soul shard, destroy it, whatever, then I'll owe you."

"I think not. After all, _you_ chose to bring this to my attention and disrupt my day - "

"I'm babysitting a girl named Fleur. And her grandmother is a Veela. A French Fae. If you don't tell me everything you know about this so-called soul shard, I will tell her that you were unwilling to help her people."

As it turned out, the Marquis knew a lot about soul shards. He had made his own, at one point, and it was with the soul shard's help he was brought back to life. Normally, shards were stored inside inanimate objects... for good reason. At this point, the shard and Harry's soul were fighting against each other, and to stay in the body, the shard was slowly siphoning off Harry's magic. There were two things he could do - a) pull out the shard right now and destroy it. It would be painless because Harry was unconscious. Or, b) change the relationship. Harry would be siphoning off the shard's power, so that Harry got a power boosts and a lot of extra information.

No, not the shard's memories - that was mind, not soul. But things like math or languages or some sort of talent - music or something. Harry would have an easier time learning that, it would be more natural to him. And he would be a natural at those things. However, Harry would have to siphon off power from the shard for at least four years before the shard ran out of energy to fight back, at which point it would be pushed out. Every moment the shard stayed was dangerous, and when the shard was pushed out... well, Harry would experience a few hours of pain.

But he would know a lot of random bits and pieces of things. It was Harry's choice, when he woke up.

Harry, being three, didn't really understand the question they were asking him. He liked his scar, and wanted to keep it for a few more years at least!

"Wait. So you'll help me?" he asked the Marquis innocently.

"Yes, Harry, I will." And the Marquis _felt_ the contract being signed. Goddamn it. He would have to help the brat without any owing involved... crap. And by Harry's smirk, he clearly knew it.

Or not - Harry seamed triumphant about getting ice cream, not help.

On another note, Harry really really liked his scar. So Harry chose the latter option, prompting him being put to sleep and back onto the table.

It was a long operation. Richard left after the first few seconds. He really couldn't stomach too much blood, Hunter or not.

In front of the Tower of London, Remus was smiling at Old Bailey. With Fleur perched on his hip, smiling and blinking her big blue eyes, Bailey was singing like his birds. Which was to say, badly, with a lot of croaking, and with few pleasant notes. Also, easily heard, even through all the din of the Floating Market.

"Greyback, eh? He was gathering the other weres... ugly fellow, he'd always yellow eyes. Not even close to eh full moon, but he had 'em eyes! Asking 'bout a kid. Someone with green eyes, from Betwe'en. Said he'd be around three now... Greyback's been looking in Between for the last three years, but listen, if he's gone to Below now, then he'll find the kid. Lady Door's not exactly quiet about it. And - "

"Ah."

There was silence. Slowly, Remus turned around, his eyes cold. Bailey stuttered and closed shop, and Fleur slid out of Remus' arms to hide. Oh, market truce was great and all.  
Fenrir happened to be a murderer, who was casually swinging a knife.

He was baring his teeth, yellow and bloody, and his hand was wrapped around some random boy. The boy was scared, eyes wide and breathing rapidly.

"Lead me to this little boy of yours. Or I will kill the boy, Market Truce or not. And bring your little girl with you - don't want her running off and telling people. If I don't see your little Harry within two hours, all three of you die. Starting with the boy, ending with you, and you'll have to watch both deaths."

Fleur appeared, taking Remus' hand, and Remus numbly began to lead them to a small 1890's Opium Den, run by the Marquis. It was a dirty business - get them hooked, so they always have to come back.

Just the sort of thing the Marquis would do.

Maybe if Fenrir somehow got drugged...? Remus was slowly beginning to panic. He had no idea what to do, and he couldn't let Harry get hurt, and oh my god, that was Fenrir Greyback, the bastard that _bit him -_

Trying not to hyperventilate, Remus kept walking.

 _There was someone Hunting his Pack._

 _There was a rival Alpha. Close. Smell..._

 _It was damp and dirty, like a worn forest floor, with a full moon and whistling. Richard picked up his spear._

Remus, pale and blinking away tears, and holding a crying Fleur, opened the door and stepped inside, revealing the rival Alpha holding a knife to a boy's throat.

 _Hunt!_


	7. Chapter 7

Door swallowed.

Ingress was just behind that door. So why was she nervous? (Well, Nymphadora was behind the door, but hopefully she'd regained enough memories that she was Ingress again...)

She had brushed her hair, putting on something new for once, something that could pass in all three worlds - a trench coat. Underneath, a simple blue blouse, between-style, and jeans, which could be either Below (from how faded and dirty they were), or really casual Above.

Her _sister_ was behind that door. Well, when you put it that way... Door knocked.

A few moments later, a man opened the door, someone clearly from Above.

"Can I help you?" He seemed a bit confused.

"Yes. May I please enter? This is about the add you placed in the Prophet, concerning dreams of an alternate life." (She didn't really read the Prophet - a helpful rat had chittered to her, saying that her sister's family had written a 'letter to the paper', which made no sense to the rat.)

"Ah! Yes, please enter, I was expecting someone more... Wizardly. I'm Mr. Tonks, my wife Andromeda and daughter Nymphadora are in the living room. Let me take your coat." Smiling a thank you, Door carefully handed Mr. Tonks her trench coat - once again, it was the first new thing she had in years, and she would be very displeased if it got dirty.

"And you are...?"

She couldn't say she was Door, could she? If her sister had said she was dreaming of a girl called Door... well, a different name would be useful.

"I am Anastasia - call me Nastia. Anastasia... Mayhew." Richard wouldn't mind her borrowing his last name.

"This way, Nastia. You may call me Ted..." They entered the room, and a gorgeous woman got up from the couch and walked over to Door. "And this is my wife, Andromeda."

"I'm Nastia. It's a pleasure. Where is..." Door began, but then her sister walked in.

She was clumsy as always, and while her hair was a bit wilder, she looked a lot like she used to. Save for a few added years, a mint streak in her hair...

"Ingress?"

"Door?"

And suddenly, without a thought, Door swung up the little girl. This was her _sister,_ her _little one_ , the _baby,_ oh, she missed her -!

"What is going on!"

And that would be Andromeda. Door paused, still holding Ingress. Right. Time for an explanation.  
"This is my sister! I thought she was dead, cause Islington wanted to kill the whole family, long story. I was looking everywhere and I thought Ingress might not remember, so I carved remembering runes everywhere and put dream-catchers everywhere I could and suddenly this add pops up about recurring dreams about an alternate life, so I came her and oh my goodness you're _alive!"_ Door may have been more emotional than she expected.

It didn't matter. She buried her nose into Ingress' hair.

"She's our daughter. You can't just take her away! We adopted her, blood adopted her, she's a Tonks-Black, she'll always be one, you can't just - " Andromeda was crying.

"She's part of London Below, whether she wants to be or not. Portico's Daughter will always be able to Open, and she's going to have to spend part of every day in Below... otherwise, Below will come for her."

Not quiet the truth. But Door was _not_ letting Ingress go.

"So, like school? I go there to learn, then come back here?" Ingress tilted her head. Of course. Her sister was a genius.

"Sounds good. She'll spend the day, from... 9:00 to 3:00 in Below, and either Saturday night to Sunday or Friday night to Saturday with me. That way we have equal time with her. And if you disagree..."

"You're not taking my mummy away!" Ingress pushed away from Door. Ah.

"Of course I'm not. You could have two mummies and a sister, right? Andromeda is one mummy, the second one is the one you remember, and I'm your sister."

"You think we'd let you take our daughter without a fight? You little - "

"Sir. My name is Lady Door. I'm from London Below. I have a Veela, a Were-wolf and The Hunter on my side, and we don't bother with legalities. I had just found my sister, and am looking for her happiness. However, just from the fact that she's my sister, people could try to hurt her. Thus, I _will_ take her to London Below Every day, to train her. Starting tomorrow. Is that understood?"

"No! I'm not just going to accept that!" Andromeda was clearly stubborn. "You can't just - "  
"STOP FIGHTIN! I don't like it. Door's not gonna hurt me. She's not." Ingress... darling.

"I, Lady Door, swear on my life to protect Ingress, also known as Nymphadora Tonks, to the best of my ability. I also swear to hurt everyone who tries to stop me from seeing her, and to encourage my allies to hurt everyone who stops me from seeing my sister."

Her allies included a werewolf. The Tonkses crumbled, and that was that. The Contract was written, and the adults signed, allowing Ingress to attend her little school. Remus had started to teach them Math and Grammar, so Ingress would learn things beside throwing knives and opening locks.

Her first day was to be tomorrow.

The Opium Den had a front door which opened into a long hallway. The Hallway had a staircase leading up to a second floor, where the Marquis had a private study, filled with... things. Bottles of Opium, of course, and other potions and knickknacks. It had a table in the middle, and currently the Marquis was bent over a boy sleeping on the table. The Hallway downstairs also had a door, leading to a large room. The room had beds and beds, and normally had people sleeping off their Opium. Today, it was empty- the Marquise was busy. The door was unlocked.

Richard, instinct guiding him, grabbed Remus (who was holding Fleur), and shoved the two behind him, and into the empty room. Richard heard the door close - Remus must have shut it.

No matter - Richard was still moving forward, leaning forward, running, even as Greyback (it had to be Greyback, who else would it be?) leapt over the small boy and flew at him, knife raised.

Richard threw his spear and ducked out of the way of the knife. It was over too quickly - the spear at gone through Greyback's throat, and the little boy -

god, no, not dead, please, he was lying so still -

ah. Only knocked out. Not even a nick on his skin, Richard had mistaken dirt for blood.  
He had just killed something.

Oh my god, he had killed, the blood pouring out of Greyback's neck -

Remus could deal with the boy, and Fleur and EVERYTHING. Richard needed a drink.

"Hey. I won. Come out." He called out, voice unsteady, and Remus opened the door, Fleur peaking out from behind him.

Richard REALLY needed a drink. Now. He needed to forget his first kill.

Several hours later, Fleur was back home in France, Harry was asleep in his room, and four adults were staring at each other. Each had told each other the full truth about what happened that day, from their point of view, and the Marquis had figured our what lead him to agree to help Harry -

"The fae! I had agreed to help them, which must have included in it that I agree to each of their contracts. Harry's magic isn't strong enough to seal the contract by itself, so it must have been from when I owed the fae!"

The Marquis had stopped owing Richard, as well - "I'll take the were's body, I'll clean up... just, you owe me now, which means the two of us are equal!"

It was Door who explained that a were's pelt could go for a lot on the Free Market, as it was always warm, sturdy, and was good at stopping blows. Furthermore, a were's eyes cost a pretty penny in London Between, while were's claws could be made into impressive daggers and sold in all three worlds. (Out of twenty claws, the four largest ones were being made into knives and given to Harry, Door, Remus, and one for the Marquis. Richard had his knife from the previous Hunter and his Spear).

Then the Marquis explained what he did to Harry's scar, making Remus turn pale.

"It was You-Know-Who who gave him the scar..."

"What, this Voldy-Mort fellow?" Richard's response made Remus flinch, then blink and crack a small smile, before steeling himself and saying the name.

"Voldemort, not Voldy-Mort."

"Hhmph. Never heard of a sane mother who names her child 'Voldemort'." Richard's response was matter of fact.

"Well, yes, but we'll find out Voldy's real name later. What the Marquis is suggesting is that he's still alive, right? Cause he might have made other soul shards..." Door wasn't sad, per se - more resigned. Of course it couldn't be this easy.

"It was a really small shard - I would say Voldy has maybe five more? Not counting the original, of course." The Marquis was more thoughtful than anything. It wasn't his problem, but it may be in the future - better let others take care of this. After all, he had customers in Between, and a war was the last thing he needed.

Unless he bet on it... But no. That was too dangerous; if Voldy got wind of his betting, he probably wouldn't like it.

"So. How'd you destroy these shards?" Door, of course. Right down to business.

"If I understand this, then what you call a soul shard, Betweeners call Horcruxes. You destroy them by destroying the container, in most cases. At one point, a hobbit threw Souron's horcrux into some magical volcano, so maybe a special fire would work?" Remus the researcher mused.

"Yes, and according to Russian history or mythology, there was a man who hid his heart or soul inside an egg, which was inside a box, which was inside - what, a tree? Something or other. Anyway, the man lived for a really long time, and he had a scar over his heart, and no one knew where his heart was." The Marquis always had a bit of random knowledge.

"So. Basically, we have get Harry some special fire or something. A portable volcano. So if Harry, when wandering around Between, just happens across a hor-crux he could kill it? I don't think so." Richard, ever so enlightening.

"No... We'll send someone else after them... I think it's time to open Dumbledore's letter." Door was decisive.

The letter was short and to the point, and Door summarized it beautifully: "'Dear Petunia, there was a war and your sister's dead. Please take care of your nephew. Love, Dumbledore'. There was also a bit about blood wards, but I'm not sure what those are, so whatever. Let's write to him! Look at all those titles, he sounds important. We'll tell him, Dear Dumbledore, we think your Voldy-Mort made soul shards. We think he's got around five, because the one in Harry didn't work, it dissipated or something, he's not a horcrux. Enjoy hunting them down! Love, someone who thinks Voldy-Mort lives. Remus, you could send it. The rest of us are going to bed."

As Door said, so it was.

Remus sad down, and carefully began to scribe:

 _Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,_

 _This is Remus Lupin, a former student._

 _I had recently checked in on Harry Potter, and found what looked like a failed attempt at making a horcrux inside the scar. (I know what horcruxes are from the Black Library, courtesy of Sirius, when researching ways to ward the cottage where Lily and James were staying at.)_

So far, all technically true.

 _The small soul-part inside Harry's scar was already pushed out by Harry's own magic, bit by bit, but judging from the size, I'd say that You-Know-Who had about five other horcruxes. Do not worry, the horcrux is not affecting Harry, and Harry is safe and growing up to be a fine young lad._

 _Please try and hunt them down!_

 _-Remus._

 _P.S. To make sure you have help, I'm forwarding this letter to Mad-Eye Moody. Please send back any information you have on You-Know-Who._

Remus hesitated at the P.S. Should he forward it to Mad-Eye?

Yes. He should. Dumbledore was great and all, but he definitely couldn't do everything.

The Letter to Mad-Eye was pretty much the same - Dear Mad-Eyes, Voldemort has five horcruxes. Check up on Dumbledore and hunt them down. Harry's safe.

That was a true relief, Remus thought. Harry was safe.


	8. Chapter 8

Albus Dumbledore read the letter his ex-student had sent him. He was nauseous at the thought of making even a single horcrux, but the thought that Tom had tried making _six_ \- he wanted to vomit. But it made sense. And he knew that Remus knew about Horcruxes; Remus himself had asked for permission to research ways that Voldemort could live for so long... but Voldemort had been stopped by Lily's love, so Remus had stopped his research.

Remus should have stopped his research, should have stopped long before he got to Horcruxes. Or maybe he had researched Horcruxes and disregarded the idea? But then, how did he know enough about them to figure out how many Voldemort had made?

Each time, you split your soul in two - the first horcrux had 1/2 your soul, the second had 1/4, the third had 1/8, the fourth had 1/16, the fifth 1/32, and the sixth, the incomplete horcrux inside little Harry would have been 1/64th of Voldemort's soul. That was a rather small piece - it would have been pushed out by a combination of Harry's soul, magic, and Lily's love.

So the real question was, could he trust this information, even if it was obvious that Remus wasn't telling where he got it from?

Before he could figure it out, the fireplace in his office burned green, and his friend Alastor Moody stepped - stomped - through.

"D'you get'e letter? Nasty business, horcrux's are. Need Fiendfyre to destroy 'em. Now, are we going to hunt the bastard down or not? Tell me everything you know about You-Know-Who and we'll do everything we can to get rid of him. And tell Remus, too - the letter was charmed to make sure only the two of us could read it, didn't think you'd notice such nifty work, but Remus was careful. He deserves to know. So start talking, old man."

Albus Dumbledore hesitated for a moment. Harry Potter, the boy of the prophesy, was supposed to be the one to vanquish Voldemort... but that didn't mean he couldn't have help. Exam week was over, school would be out soon, and he'd be free for the summer to destroy the last bits of Voldemort.

He began to tell Moody the story of Tom Marvolo Riddle, while Mad-Eye took down notes to send to Remus.

Apolline knelt next to Harry. The boy had been learning at an extraordinary rate lately, though Remus had refused to teach any of his students conventional topics, stating that those would be learned at school. Instead, the three of them studied Occlumency and Legilimency, Wandmaking from old books and such, a bit of warding, even a small bit of animagus training (meditation and such), and... oddly... speaking French.

He was teaching Fleur to speak English as well.

Well, maybe he was just teaching the three of them to be bilingual. Or maybe he just liked teaching. Either way, Harry learned very fast, and very well; he'd even picked up on what she'd been teaching Fleur about charisma, to the point where she'd just started including him in her lesson.

And now it was time for him to learn his name. His Fae name, the name that would separate his human self from his fae self, so that he'd be able to unlock the full extent of his powers. Contracts, someone's fears, and person's aura... There was a reason the whole of the Celtic people feared and worshiped the fae. They didn't sacrifice to the fae, that's true, but they never went to war against them, leaving offerings of rose-milk in return for the fae leaving them alone.

Harry closed his eyes, breathing deeply. It wasn't meditation, where you were the center. It was looking into himself, as if in front of a mirror.

 _Childe..._ something hissed into his mind - and suddenly he was looking into a storm. It was hurricane-like, but moving around a single point, with flashes of lightning... and against all appearances, seemed to be tightly controlled by the center. The storm, no matter how wildly it raged, never moved wider than a certain radius.

And it was wild, like a large mob, screaming and yelling with power... but not randomly. He was powerful, and he was angry, but it was only aimed at certain people.

Oppressors.

He wasn't angry, he was defiant. Righteous anger. He would stand for freedom, but he was far to passionate - there was some sort of hidden darkness. It wasn't a sea, after all, it wasn't collective and repetitive - it was a wild and angry storm. He was a wild and angry storm.

He was Dubhshláine... Dark Defiance.

But for now, he was also Harry Potter, and he needed to tuck Dubhshláine and the lightning it came with far away. He needed to wait, and learn, for no matter how carefully Remus and Richard and Door hid it, he knew he would need to fight.

Right now, he just needed to get better.

Richard, Door and Remus were having a conference.

"So, the defense class is cursed? No one can, well, defend themselves? That's why these Death Eaters were such a big deal - no one knew how to fight against them?" Door recapped. Remus nodded tiredly. They've been over this a million times...

"So why not have recurring teachers? Like, you teach every other year, and an auror teaches during the full moons and the years you don't teach? That way, neither of you teach two years in a row."

It took a moment for Remus to process what Door had just proposed.

"You want me to teach at Hogwarts?! But Harry's -"

"Well, not now. But we'd like it if you'd teach during Harry's years in the Betweener-School." Richard nodded. Harry wasn't going anywhere without someone watching over him.

Then Door said something that would either make the world a better place or burn it down.

"Wait. Volde-guy recruits from Hogwarts because he knows what it's like, right? He knows the old hatreds and such. So why don't we just change the recruitment grounds? It's summer, so you can take Richard and I to this school, and we'll fix it!"

Remus shook his head. A conference with him, Door, Richard, Andromeda and Ted (Apolline watching the children), Headmaster Dumbledore, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape, Sprout, and Healer Pomphrey... well, that was complicated. Then, setting those from Below or knew about Below into Hogwarts...

Well.

Richard got lost once, so Door ordered up four hundred pieces of parchment to be spread equally and randomly around the school, stuck to the walls- so every hallway had at least one parchment stuck to it. The parchments had maps of Hogwarts that were connected to the wards... which meant that they were like the Marauders' map - they showed the secret passageways (which now had doors and locks). But these maps were so much... better. For one, if a student found another secret passageway, it would immediately appear on the maps, because these maps were connected to the wards... just like the students were. Furthermore, after curfew, the maps would show everyone in the castle - ghosts in gray, teachers in dark red, students in black, and prefects black outlined in silver. If someone wasn't supposed to be in the school, they'd show up in dark green.

Also, there was an inter-house common room. Four roaring fires, armchairs and tables to work at... well, you wouldn't think it was an unused, remodeled classroom just by looking at it.

Door and Andromeda then turned different, old rooms into a football (soccer) field, complete will balls and self-resizing uniforms (purple and black, so anyone can put them on and they'll shrink/grow to fit that person), a basketball field (with the same charms), a huge swimming pool with two changing rooms (male and female), an ice skating rink, a ballroom (at least Richard was as bemused as everyone else was at this point), an art studio (with honest-to-god shelves of paints and other materials Remus couldn't even name), a ballet studio (!), and a music room.

A music room. This took up the most time - there was a huge shelf, containing books upon books on the music numbers of just about... anybody. Everything, Mozart, Back, Beethoven, the Beatles (with words), some band called Sting, some band called Sex Pistols (what? Who names bands with names like that, and who listens to that?!) Then, there were stalls. Each stall was sound proof - you picked the book you wanted, went inside, asked from whatever instrument you wanted, a house elf would bring it to you from a separate room where there were piles upon piles of instruments. In the case of a piano, there were twenty stalls that were huge and already had a piano inside.

Actually, all the stalls were ridiculously big, and could easily fit five people, each with an instrument.

Dumbledore twinkled at this, even as Minerva spluttered, Snape sneered, Sprout blinked, and Pomphrey huffed.

The rooms were situated all around the school, at random, with their locations shown on the maps.

Then Door and Andromeda set about fixing the wards. Apparently, most of them were... down. Because Snape was a Death Eater, and the wards would kick him out.

So Door changed the Dark Mark - she scratched it, a long white line across the ugly picture, so the wards wouldn't recognize Snape as a Death Eater. The wards went up again, with Door adding a few mild compulsions - by the end of the seventh year, the following would be ingrained into every person (unless they actively fought against it):

 _Do not Judge_

 _Live and Let Live_

 _Look for Truth - whatever anyone tells you take with a grain of salt; look for proof in every statement_

 _Respect EVERYONE_

Oh, the first years would still be little swots, and these mild compulsions would fade over the summer - but they would be slight nudges, making more likely to be respectful, to be nice... not to judge... Really, a few years of this, and Voldemort may have some trouble recruiting. Door was clearly interested in keeping Harry safe.

Then Richard started taking care of defense. First of all, Hagrid's giant, three-headed dog was added into the wards - it would have an everlasting compulsion to protect the students, but it would live in its prime as long as Hogwarts stood. The old school brooms were replaced with good riding brooms, and the old brooms were pulled apart. The huge shafts were erected all around the boundaries of Hogwart's grounds, with the small broom-tail sticks between them. They were all sharpened to a point, covered with poison, and charmed to stab any enemy that marched to Hogwarts. Behind the broomstick-fence was spread around the Devil's Snare in a long, thin line. Around five hundred Flying Keys (courtesy of Flitwick) were sent to fly in complicated formations outside Hogwarts' towers, charmed to attack and kill any attackers from the air. One look at the marching suits of armor gave Ted Tonks a brainwave - and Andromeda made a carved wooden nymph for each suit of armor. The nymphs had a bow and arrows each, with several daggers to go with them. They were also beautiful.

Then, the grande Finale - the Training Hall. There were seven rooms, one for each year. Only one student was able to enter a room at a time.

A student would enter. The school would record their magic signature and name (which was how the wards knew where the students were). They would be give a defensive spell, and told to fight against an opponent... an illusion. They would be judged on how well they did - thus, there would be seven separate scoreboards, one for each year, and the students would be ranked by their dueling skilling on the board. They had to fight three times a week, or their ranking was dropped. Each third time they fought, they would be taught a new spell - either offensive, like expelliarmus, or defensive, like protego. If the student didn't use the spell at least once within the next three fights, they automatically dropped to lowest rank. As students got better, they would be made to fight two, then three opponents, all the opponents getting better as the students did. All seven scoreboards were to be posted in the inter-house common room, and in the four common rooms.

It would teach the students a) how to fight, and b) prove the power was not based on bloodlines. If a muggleborn fought better than a pure-blood, what did that mean, after all?

By the end of it, Door made each and every teacher promise not to reverse any of the changes that they brought, and then Door, Richard, Ted and Andromeda left as quickly as they came.

Remus decided that all his friends were quiet insane. And he still had to speak with Dumbledore about You-Know-Who!

Speaking of...

Dumbledore had brought Remus, Moody, and Snape with him as he went to his office. Oh, dear. Severus and he had never truly gotten along...


	9. Chapter 9

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, surveying the three men sitting across from him. He trusted all three, although with different things. He had never heard of anyone called Lady Door before, and she and her companion, Richard, were quiet unusual. They were both remarkably well informed about the Wizarding World, and the changes they implemented were quiet brilliant.

But now they had other things to concentrate on. He looked again at Remus, Severus and Alastor Moody.

"A few days ago, I received the following letter," he began, and quickly read aloud Remus' letter. Moody nodded, already knowing what was written within the letter - he was the recipient of a copy of the letter. Remus, too, knew about this - he was the one who wrote the letter. Severus, however, frowned.

"What, pray tell, are horcruxes?" He asked. Dumbledore explained, quickly summarizing the facts - soul shard, hard to kill, must be destroyed. There was a moment of silence, and then Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Are you certain we can trust this information, Albus?" He asked, sneering at Remus. Remus raised his wand in response.

"I swear on my magic that the person whom we call Lord Voldemort, also known as You-Know-Who or He-who-must-not-be-named, has made horcruxes. I swear on my magic that to the best of my knowledge, apart from the soul-shard in Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort has made five other horcruxes." There was a moment to let this sink in, then Remus raised his wand again. "Lumos." The faint beam of light proved that Remus hadn't lost his magic, and that everything he had said was true.

"Well then," Dumbledore began, "Let us begin with a trip to Voldemort's life, gathering in the form of memories of those who knew him. We'll watch the memories in my pensieve, and if it's too late when we're finished watching, we shall meet again in my office tomorrow, at the same time."

"And everyone swear that they won't tell anyone about the horcruxes or tomorrow's meeting time or place! Constant Vigilance!" Mad-Eye added. After the oath, Albus pulled out his pensieve, dropped the first memory inside, and everyone leaned in.

That night, Remus returned home shaken. They had watched Bob Odgen's memory of Merope, seeing how important the ring and the locket were to Marvolo. They had watched Tom Riddle's penchant for collecting treasures when Dumbledore first told him about magic. They had seen Slughorn's false memory about Tom asking him about Horcruxes, and they had watched Tom and the old woman with Hufflepuff's cup and the same locket.

Thankfully, Richard and Door already knew about Horcruxes, so he could safely tell them about all he learned without breaking his oath. By God, he was tired...

And then Harry entered the room. Remus felt faint - judging by Harry's slightly disturbed expression, he had heard everything that Remus had said.

"I want to get my wand tomorrow. I'll need to fight this Tom person, I heard you talking, so I need to start fighting now. I've read your books on wand-making, Uncle Moony, so I know everything that you do, now. Teach me about wards, with my wand, so I can make wards to protect all of us, and teach me how to fight. Properly. Uncle Moony, it's obvious you don't know much about wand-making, because after I read your books, it's obvious you don't know anything except what's in your books. So PLEASE just buy me books on warding and get me a wand and teach me to fight!"

Remus' first response was...

"You're so young!" Door whispered. But Harry wasn't - not really. He had been around adults most of his life, Fleur was three years older than him, and Ingress was, to his young-ish mind, practically adult. Tom's horcrux had been giving him power and information, further influencing his maturity. And lastly, Richard and Door treated him as a young adult - they simply thought of him as responsible. Or rather, they left his education up to Remus and simply took him around to different pockets of Time where he was expected to act responsible. The only one who treated him as a child was Apolline, and even she expected him to be Fleur's age.

"All right. We'll get your wand tomorrow. And the warding books. But I don't want your French slacking! Or your Occlumency or Animagus training... even if you already know the first due to Tom and are getting no-where with the second due to your age." Remus sighed tiredly. Richard nodded. He didn't fully understand all of this "Occlumency" and "animagus" stuff - so, Harry wanted to study one branch of magic instead of the other. Sure. Why not. He's a kid, Richard decided, he has time to figure it out.

Remus and Harry were standing inside Ollivander's Shop, with Remus dredging up what little he knew about Wards in order to tell Harry. He really needed more books on the subject.

a) they needed a power source.

b) they were three wards: 'compulsion' wards, 'alarm' wards, and 'activation' wards. A compulsion would 'hint' at you to act a certain way - although, once out of the ward's power, those compulsions will fade. An alarm ward would have some sort of magical tripwire and would warn you when someone would go through the tripwire. An activation ward would basically activate all your defense measure, which weren't wards. A ward wasn't a special wall that only let certain people through - it was a trip wire that only snapped when certain people crossed it, and then all your other defensive measures will be activated.

"So, for example, all of Hogwarts' halls were tripwires, and if the wrong person scampered across them, then they'd show up on the new maps and would probably get shot down by the new armed nymphs." Remus finished.

There was a moment of silence (except Ollivander's muttering about "This one? No, not rosewood...")

"How do wards get charged?"

"People's natural, ambient magic, I suppose. It's like body heat - the air around is get a bit hotter, a bit more charged with magic. Wards feed off that natural charge."

"Can you make wards feed off certain people? You said that the Hoggywards wards recognize people by their Dark Mark - so why not make wards feed off the Eaters? Like, in Diagon Ally and Vertic Ally and Re Ally and Knockturn Ally and Horizont Ally and Actu Ally and Numeric Ally, wards feed off the Eaters!"

"I'll suggest it to Dumbledore."

And thus Harry got his wand. Holly and Phoenix feather, brother wand to Voldemort, complete with a wand holster that strapped to the wrist. And new books on warding, of course.

While Harry was at home, struggling through all his new theory books (just because Tom was downloading information into his head was no excuse not to study NEWT- level potions and transfigurations and beginner's wards, which Tom never studied, according to Uncle Moony), Remus was with Mad-Eye, Severus and Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry, Alastor," said Dumbledore, "I don't quiet understand the question."

"Well, I'm an auror, and Snape here's a Death Eater, and's far as I know, Remus got good marks on his DADA. But CONSTANT VIGILANCE! I refuse to just stroll into Little Hangleton, especially not into that old house. Naw. I spent all of this morning perfecting a new spell - it checks to see if there are horcruxes within a mile vicinity. And you know what? I say we go to Hangleton, cast the spell. If the Horcrux is there, we torch Riddle's old house with Fiendfyre."

"Not to mention," added Snape, "Who knows what traps that are inside that old house? No. Let's burn the entire house down, and then cast the spell again to check if there are any horcruxes left."

"Also, all of us casting the counter-curse to Fiendfyre should take care of it before it gets out of control." Added Remus. Dumbledore blinked.

"Well, that is certainly a far better plan. Let us go, then?"

All four wizards touched the pre-made portkey. Dumbledore glanced around, quickly taking in the village and applying notice-me-not charms on all of them and on the house with a snake nailed to its door. Mad-Eye cast the first spell, sending an iridescent blue hoop with it's center at his wand spreading through everything as it grew quickly. It reached a radius of a mile and quickly came back, sinking into Alastor's wand. A small black puff of smoke emerged from the wand, pausing in midair before fading away.

"There's a horcrux here, all right. Now we just have to destroy it. I'll say the Fiendfyre charm, and after thirty seconds, we all yell the counter, got it?" Mad-eye quickly took charge, and Dumbledore let him. Mad-Eye was younger and more paranoid. This was his forte.

"Three!... Two!... One! - FIENDFYRE!" A large fiery panther shot out of the wand and into the house, growing and spreading into more and more animals - a basilisk, a dragon, a beastly lion, all made of fire and all devouring everything in sight.

"NOW!" As all four wizards said the counter, the fire slowly disappeared. It took a long moment before the wizards caught their breath - all that was left of the house and the grass it stood on was a small pile of ashes and a single cracked ring, which Dumbledore was quick to place into his robes.

Mad-Eye cast his 'horcrux-sensing' spell again. This time, when the hoop came back, there was no black puff of smoke, and all four men once again portkeyed to Dumbledore's office.

"Listen," Remus began quickly, "we're all really tired from controlling Fienfyre and we got one horcrux. I say we come back tomorrow at the same time to track down a second one, after we've rested. Come on Mad-Eye, I'll walk you out."

The plan was reckless, crazy, and was ridiculously long-term. It would require ridiculous amounts of help. It would also incapacitate most of the Death Eaters. Mad-Eye approved, and immediately Apparated Remus into Longbottom Manner.

There, Remus, Mad-Eye, and Lady Longbottom (Neville's Grandmother) went over the plan again. Then Remus went to get Andromeda Black-Tonks, and Andromeda got Amos Diggory (who, as a Hufflepuff with a son soon to be at Hogwarts, could be trusted), and then Mad-Eye got Amelia Bones, who got Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Then Remus repeated his plan. Of course, only he and Mad-Eye knew about Horcruxes. Everyone else thought this was to make sure they knew who the enemy was in case of a repeat of the war. And, of course, to punish the Death Eaters for hurting their families or otherwise being racist pigs.

Everyone put so many notice-me-not charms on themselves it was almost hard to look at someone directly. Disillusionment charms quickly followed, and then some Felix Felices from Lady Longbottom.

That night, the Ministry of Magic, Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley and all of their counterparts, various manors of various Death Eaters were all re-warded. As was Azkaban.

All non-Death Eaters would be able to tell if a Death Eater was lying. A magic map of the ministry was handed to Amelia. It worked like the Maurader's map, but the code was different: _Flint_ to open, and _Chalk_ to close. After all, Amelia Bones had read Terry Pratchett's Tiffany Aching Series, and a witch from the chalk with bones of flint was something she remembered. Also, all the Death Eaters' names were red when they showed up on the map.

There were plenty of "be kind, don't judge, we're all equal" compulsion charms, but those didn't work as well on adults. Still, they were something. All the charms that kept the ministry running - kept the place clean and windows showing nice weather - were replied. The same wards and charms were applied to various Diagon and Knockturn Alley shops.

Years ago, Mad-Eye had figured out something important. Voldemort summoned his Death Eaters by placing his wand on a Dark Mark. And that wouldn't work unless there was some sort of connection between each and every Death Eater and Voldemort. Ergo, there was some sort of magical network, which was kept 'open' by virtue of the Death Eaters' and Voldemorts' power. And if all the wards took power only from that network... well, first of all, if it were just Death Eaters' magic powering the wards in the Ministry and all the Alleys, then they'd all collapse from magical exhaustion within the week.

But it wasn't Death Eaters. No, it was the network, which meant that Voldemort's soul-shards were also powering these wards. And if the shards ran out of magic, then there was nothing binding the soul to the object, so it'd fly off and join with the main soul - Voldemort himself. Which effectively eliminated Horcruxes. Of course, this was assuming that Voldemort didn't try something during this time period... but still, it definitely weakened the Death Eaters.

Then, after a bit of consideration, Mad-Eye added a quick specification to the Hogwarts wards: That their main source of energy was the Death Network, not student's ambient magic. After all, it could reach the Network through Snape, and even if Snape no longer showed up on the wards as a Death Eater, he was still connected to the Network - he was still, like as not, marked.

After a bit more consideration, Mad-Eye took the others to Azkaban, adding some wards - those who weren't Eaters would be able to tell if the Eaters were lying, everyone was highly paranoid in Azkaban, and Azkaban fed on both the Network and the Dementors' natural magic. Then, Moody decided that they couldn't just let Dementors fly around Azkaban at any moment. So he set up another round of wards, and conjured portkey-chains.

The portkey-chains were put into a box, and Azkaban was given another set of wards and charms: If any dementor was farther than a mile away in any direction from Azkaban, a single chain per dementor would appear on their arms, chaining them together. The dementor would be forcibly portkeyed to within Azkaban, where the chains would then fall off and portkey back to their box. And this particular set of charms and wards fed of the magic of a dementor.

Mad-Eye was very optimistic - "We don't know how much magic those things have, but eventually, those set of wards will kill them just by draining them of magic and we're safe from those dark creatures!"

For a moment, Remus was worried about genocide. Then he decided that the average IQ of a Dementor was about 40. It would be like killing off all the ants on the planet, but easier and more rewarding and with a better outcome.

With that done, Remus apparated home, told Richard and Door and a listening Harry what happened and fell into bed. He had used WAY too much magic.

The new wards on Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley found their way into the network via a small golden cup in Gringotts. They found that the Network had a lot of energy and quickly began to drain it. Since the wards were physically closer to the cup than the rarely shopping rich Death Eater Lords, they drew most of the magic they needed from the cup, although a fair amount came from the Network.

The new wards in the Ministry confused a lot of people at first. Suddenly, Minister Fudge knew exactly when Lucius, his trusted adviser, was lying, and when he wasn't. It was slightly odd. There were lots of other people that he could do that with... and an awful lot wanted to just use him to push the agendas they wanted, not to further his political career. Maybe he shouldn't rely on them quiet so much... Bones was too stuck up on principle, but he would listen to her sometimes. Besides, most of the liars seemed weaker and weaker each passing month.

The wards on plenty of manners and the ministry made Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkingston and other families rather weak magically, though they didn't know it. Malfoy, though weakened, wasn't loosing his breath at quiet the same rate - a certain diary in his home, being there all hours of every day, was more easily accessible to the wards, so they drained the Network through the diary, thus taking more of the diary's magic. Just in case, Andromeda added the same wards to the Black family house, just in case some Death Eaters came to hide there.

A locket quickly began to power the wards which would have been never started up otherwise - there were no humans, no ambient magics, at the Black home.

Bellatrix and her ilk were dead within six months. Oddly, Sirius Black persistent in staying alive...

In Hogwarts, a diadem was loosing magic rather quickly. While Severus Snape was loosing magic, he wasn't loosing magic nearly as quickly as the others - as his Mark was scratched over, no wards drew magic directly from him, only through the Network.

The next day, four wizards went to a certain cave. One of them, a man with a peg leg, muttered a certain spell. After it disappeared, the man cursed before telling the others "It's not here."

There was a moment of silence. Then,

"Well, why don't we go and check on what's over there, anyway? We might learn something new." After a short whispered conference, one of the men whispered something and all the water between the men and an island disappeared.

Corpses began to rise, groaning. Each man shouted "Incendio!" quickly, following the instructions of the one with the peg leg - "Let it run wild! We want to destroy them all, so don't try to control the fire, let it spread, let your magic power it as much as possible! We're not dying at the hands of some Inferni!"

It was nearly half and hour later before there was nothing but ashes on the ground. No one wanted to walk on that, but a quick spell from Dumbledore made the ground made of marble. A quick crossing later, everyone was looking at a bowl on a pedestal, in which was a potion, underneath which was the not-horcrux. After trying to get rid of the potion in various ways, Snape determined that the only way to get rid of it was to drink it.

Remus promptly conjured a rat. It only managed a few spoonfuls, so Remus conjured another one - and so all four men conjured various rodents to drink the potion for them.

A quick "Alohamora!" Opened the locket for them, and the note inside it made Remus' heart sink.

"Regulus Black. Si... Sirius' brother."

There was a long moment of silence, then -

"Well. Naturally, the mangy dog's brother was a bother as well as the dog himself. I suggest we ask Mrs. Tonks to take us to the family house tomorrow, but right now, I want sleep." Severus turned and left, leaving the other three men to do the same.

Harry frowned at his books. Random parts made sense to him, like the transfiguration and occlumency and all his school subjects and the dark arts, but then warding was so confusing! Remus explained it all really well though. He'll wait for Remus to come and tell him... even if he couldn't really control his magic yet, it was good to know how the wards worked. But for now...

"Hey Fleur! Let's duel some more! Expelliarmus!"

Oh, yes. Fleur was hard to beat. This would be fun, and eventually he'd beat her. And then she'd have to give him chocolate! Those were the rules - the winner of the deal would give the looser chocolate, and he wanted to finally get some instead of allaying giving Fleur some chocolate. Unfair. This time, he'd win.

Or not.

"How'd you say Stup'fe?"

"It's STUPEFY, stupid!"

"I'm not stupid! Rematch! STUPEFY!"

He was SO getting that chocolate.


	10. Chapter 10

"Nymphadora Ingress Tonks!" Minerva rarely had trouble pronouncing names, but really, what was Andromeda thinking, giving the child a name like that!

"It's just TONKS! Those who call me Nymphadora will PAY! Although Ingress is fine if you're a friend." Ah, yes, Minerva nodded to herself. The Black temper. Although really, Ingress was so much easier to pronounce than Nymphadora.

The hat on her head was dank and smelly. It decided that she was _brave, almost reckless_ \- duh! - _smart, you like learning_ \- duh! Remus taught her, of course she was smart, and she was going to be an auror - _ambitious enough for Slytherin, it is very hard to be an auror, and your determination is your main quality...no wait, go back to your family... hmm... very loyal. You'd die for any of them, for your mother and father, for your sister and Richard, and your brother Harry and Remus._  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Damn right. Hogwarts was going to be brilliant.

A few days later, Tonks pressed her hand to the middle of the door to the training room for first years. Words appeared on the door:

NYMPHADORA INGRESS TONKS

HUFFLEPUFF - 1st year

YES NO

Tonks quickly pressed YES and the door opened. For a moment, there was silence, and then a human - shaped figure, entirely out of silver, stepped forward. He showed her the protego spell, she repeated it.

Then they dueled quickly, with him pressing her back, assessing her level. She was only aloud to use protego during the duel - this one was to build her power levels, her ability to dodge. When she was taught more spells, then they'd start really dueling, maybe in two months. But until then, she was to grow proficient at the spells the silver-figure taught her.

She had an unfair advantage - she was taught by Remus, and she was taught before any of these kids. She had years of training on them - she was gonna dominate the scoreboard! If her score was good enough at first year, the silver figure would duel her at second year level, and her name would appear on the second-year scoreboard. Maybe she could get up to third year while still in first year 'cuz of the training!

Then a thought stopped her in her tracks. If she was so much better than everyone else, who were complaining about how hard it was, then Harry was gonna be brilliant. He was gonna be, in, like sixth year's scoreboard in his first year! That was SO unfair.

She was gonna have to be so good, that no matter what Harry's scores were, he couldn't beat her.

The meetings between Severus, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye and Remus had slowly tapered off. They had gone to the Black Family House - number 12, Grimmauld place, and destroyed the locket with fiendfyre while Kreacher watched. Then, after Severus and Dumbledore left, Mad-Eye had changed the wards to feed of dark magic. Hopefully, that would weaken curses and dark creatures (Boggarts, Doxies) after a while. But after the locket, everything seemed to slow.

They had gotten two horcruxes - two out of five. But there was no where else to search. Unless they wanted to turn over each and every Death Eater home and bank account, which was illegal and dangerous on so many levels that it bordered on stupidity, all they could do was wait for something to change.

Two years later, (he was seven now, an adult, a big boy!) Harry read the letter from his sister Ingress, frowning.

So. All the teachers were biased without knowing it, were they? Some discounted Hufflepuffs just because, Snape favored Slytherins, McGonagall asked Gryffindors the questions, and Sprout asked Hufflepuffs the questions.

Hhm... Ingress hadn't written it this way before. When she wrote letters about teachers, it was just "this guy's mean, this one's nice." So maybe she was starting to notice things? At any rate, if Tonks thought it was a problem, then it was a problem. He trusted Ingress, his sister.

That would need to change. Of course, he should be studying. But really, who cared about animagus training? He was a child, he was allowed to take a break. Harry pulled out a few pieces of parchment, a quill and two bottles of ink - black ink and lemon juice, also used as invisible ink.

On the front of the parchment, in shaky, bad penmanship, Harry wrote:

 _Dear Profffesor Snape,_

 _I am Harry Potter. Uncle Mony said that my fatther was meen to yu. I wann't to say sorrry so I'm saiing sorry. Sorry._

 _-Harry_

 _P.S. You don't gotta answer if yu dunt want to._

Then, on the back of the parchment, Harry carefully began to write his first contract... in lemon juice, with a quill, in a Manor you have to go by sewers to reach. Harry carefully unlocked his fae powers, and wrote out his fae name. Then he kept writing, pausing to look up words in a nearby dictionary every so often.

Dubhshláine, the writer of this contract, to Severus Snape:

If Severus Snape reads the letter from Harry Potter to his person, then he is agreeing to the contract written here. If he does not read the letter from Harry Potter, written on the opposite side of the parchment, then he is not bound by the following contract:

Severus Snape agrees not to discriminate against students based on their Hogwarts House, their family, their political connections or their physical appearance. Severus Snape may treat students differently from one another based on the amount of respect he receives from said student, the way this student treats other students or teachers, the student's work ethic and potions skill. 

Dubhshláine

That was letter one, completed. Harry gave it to a nearby waiting owl, and quickly ordered the bird to take the letter to "Snape, at Hogwarts, and then come right back. Don't wait for an answer."

Letter two:

 _Daer Profffessor McGonnagall,_

 _I am Harry Potter. Can you please tell me about my mum and dad? I know dad liked trans-changing-magic, and mum liked charms._

 _-Love, Harry._

And on the back:

Dubhshláine, the writer of this contract, to Minerva McGonagall:

If Minerva McGonagall reads the letter from Harry Potter to her person, then she is agreeing to the contract written here. If she does not read the letter from Harry Potter, written on the opposite side of the parchment, then she is not bound by the following contract:

Minerva McGonagall agrees not to discriminate against students based on their Hogwarts House, their family, their political connections or their physical appearance. Minerva McGonagall may treat students differently from one another based on the amount of respect she receives from said student, the way this student treats other students or teachers, the student's work ethic and transfiguration skill. 

Dubhshláine

And thus went all the letters, with simple variations. Dear Flitwick, tell me about my father - he liked pranks, but what else did he do? By the way, you now cannot discriminate. Dear Sprout, Hootch, all of Tonk's teachers, you now have to treat everyone equally. Even Madam Pomphrey, the healer, was forced to stop discriminating. Harry gave a sharp whistle, summoning an enormous amount of owls. He quickly handed out the rest of the letters, but for these, he asked for an answer.

Dear teachers, you will treat all the kids in your school equally.

Thank you for reading my letters.

Severus Snape was eating dinner when he received a letter. Traditionally, mail came at breakfast, but that didn't mean that there was no post at dinner time - it just meant that mail was rare.

The letter had a child's handwriting and spelling, and it was apologizing for a parent's misdeed. Severus Snape read the letter carefully, not missing a single word. He wasn't sure what to make of this. The child... what was that? Oh, yes, an added P.S. - he wouldn't have to answer.

How droll. He wasn't planning on doing so, anyway - what would he say?

That he felt his magic change as soon as he read the letter? That his fingers felt the bumps on the back of the parchment, and he immediately turned the parchment dark blue, reading the condemning contract that he unwittingly agreed to? Oh, this Potter was smart. Severus had nothing to tell him, except, perhaps "Welcome to Slytherin."

And, maybe, "That was so much like Lily. You apologized and made sure I couldn't make any more mistakes, either. The rules cut and set and clear. That contract is pure Lily. It was only the way you tricked me into it that was James, and I could forgive you that, because with contracts, I would do the same. Welcome to Slytherin, dear child. I will make your life hell for the next seven years because of how you are forcing me to behave with this contract."

Snape slipped the parchment into an inner pocket. He would burn it. It would not get rid of the contract, that was in his magic - he would fulfill the terms whether he wanted to or not. But it would not be good for his reputation to receive a letter and have others notice that a child was writing to him.

Just then, all the other teachers, barring the Headmaster, received a letter. Severus smirked. Obviously, the Potter Demon, Lily's Child, demanded equality. Everyone would be trapped in the contract, or there would be only one equal teacher, and that wouldn't do. They were trapped in the same contract as he was, which meant that suddenly, there was no more 'favorite teacher' - it was 'favorite subject.'

He grinned to himself. The other teachers wouldn't even notice until class time - They didn't regulate his magic like he did, how could they, when his Occlumency was so much better?

But Potter's child will pay for the utterly Slytherin ploy. It would be quiet a lot of fun, trying to make seven years hell without discrimination. Maybe he could ask Peeves...?

Richard raised an eyebrow. Tonk's letters were expressive and long and very full of ramblings, but he understood the point - first all the teachers had favorites, then she told Harry about it. Harry makes no mention of this in his letter to her, but the same evening, all the teachers receive a letter, and suddenly, no more favorites, or at least - favorites based on work ethic and talent. And that's it. And everyone knew that Harry knew about contracts.

As if he didn't have enough problems to take care of. The Rats were still panicking about the 'not-rat-man with one less toe' even years later, Harry was due to loose his horcrux any day now, they needed to check if Harry needed glasses, Door had to manage London Below business which he didn't understand but that's OK because she's Lady Door and nobility and he was Hunter, and they needed to figure out why Remus' eyes flashed yellow at Tonk's name, or why Tonks wrote twice as much to Remus as to everyone else. And they needed to find the rest of the soul shards.

Harry was staring at him.

Had he said the last paragraph out loud? Oh. Dear.

"So. Harry. Did you trap your future teachers into a contract? And may I have a copy of the contract? I'm not angry, don't worry."

"I know you're not angry. I said that they couldn't discriminate, and they had to treat everyone equally. And that's it. They could have favorites based on a student's work ethic and talent and respect for teachers, but that's it. And yeah, I trapped them into a contract. But I just gave them laws they would have to follow in Above anyway. I don't like trapping people into working for me. I just want to make a better world."

Richard sighed, looking at the little boy, scuffing his shoe.

"You know what? The next time you want to dabble in Fae magic, tell me. I'll help, or stop you depending on danger levels. But for now, let's get ice cream. I'm not in the mood for thinking."

That was the last time Harry had ice cream while having an extra soul in his body, because that night, his scar began to prick.

After he cried out, all three adults rushed into his room, and for the next twenty-four hours, tried to sooth him while he wept. His scar bled, sometimes heavily and sometimes just barely, but it never closed, and for a memorable four hours, he had a sudden high fever. Harry Potter tossed and turned, crying, as a soul shard was slowly being pushed out of his body. His head hurt and his vision swam, and his nausea came and went too suddenly for food.

And then it was over.

Twenty Four hours, and then something black and wispy forced itself out of his scar and dissipated. Harry relaxed, the pain gone. He decided that he was tired and was allowed to sleep, because he was not having animagus training after something like that, and so he rolled over and closed his eyes.

While he slept, owls returned, dropping off letters from teachers... and a certain headmaster.

Tonks grinned at herself in the mirror. She was going home for the holidays! Christmas in London Below was... indescribable. She'd made a LOT of friends - Bill was cool, and so was Charlie; they were brothers and had a lot more at home. A Slytherin girl called Davies, she was nice. S'matter of fact, all the Slytherins were nicer than she expected from the stories, and really, the rivalry wasn't that bad. No one was hexing each other in the hallways - instead, it was who had the highest scoreboard rank?

She did. Duh.

But she really, really couldn't wait to go home, to see Remus. And Mum and Dad and Door and Richard (When will they get married already?!) and Harry. She was in her third year, and in her scoreboard, she was in really high fourth - she'd be in fifth year soon!

Tonks grinned as she slid over on the compartment seat next to her friends, so that more people could enter. The Hogwarts express was comfortable, and she was happy about going home.

"Hey Tonks!"

"Charlie! Still chasing dragons?"

"Forever. Hagrid knows all about them. Listen, Tonks, um..."

"Hhm?" Tonks raised at eyebrow. Charlie was older than her, a Gryffindor, but he was smart - not canon fodder. A good friend.

"Willyoupleasegooutwithme?"

"Slower?"

"When we come back to school. From break. There's a Hogsmeade weekend. And. I, um, wanted to um, go, with you. Yeah. Come with me?" Oh... Oh, Charlie... Tonks blinked. He was her dear friend. But she didn't want him like that. First of all, she was thirteen. A bit young. Second of all, she was in no mood to go out with anyone at all in her life ever. The only boy she could talk to without it being weird was Remus. Daddy didn't count cuz he was daddy, Harry was her brother, and Richard was her brother-in-law-to-be. Soon. She hoped. Richard and Door were made for each other.

"No. Not as a date, at any rate. But as friends, sure. I need to stock up on Chocolate, anyway." Tonks watched as Charlie deflated, but he perked up after a few empty sentences and went to ask another girl. Casanova, as Mum would say. Oh. Well. It didn't matter. She had Remus.

**************  
Several months ago, in early October, Door put three drops on Remus' tongue. It was all that was needed to make Veritaseum work.

"How do you feel about Ingress?"

"She's pack. Family. And clever. Had she been older, Moony would think of her as a potential mate."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes." Door gaped, and Richard took over.

"Do you love Harry?"

"Yes."

"Door? Andromeda? Ted? Fleur? Apolline?"

"Yes. yes. Yes. Yes. No. I like her, but don't love her." Door relaxed.

"Do you love Richard? How would you describe your love?"

"Yes. The same way I love Door and Ted and Andromeda. I love Harry and Fleur more fiercely because they're children, and need protection."

"Had Ingress been older..."

"Had Nymphadora Ingress Tonks been older than seventeen, I would have married her as soon as possible. As it is, she is a child, so I will protect her until she mates. I am past my prime and she is not yet in hers, thus our lifetimes should not be spent together."

There was a long moment of silence. Then...

"Well, Betweeners tend to live longer than the rest of us. I think that we should de-age Remus' body to be seventeen, so then he'll only be four years older than Ingress. We could say it was a prank. And he's the only one I trust with my sister, anyway. I'll get the Marquis to figure it out. So long as it's done before Christmas. In return, the Marquis can spend Christmas with us!"

*************  
The Marquis sighed. It was really quiet difficult, what Door had asked him to do. He had removed the soul, the life and memories from the container, the body. Then he rewound the body clock until the child was seventeen. Or sixteen, or eighteen, who knows. Late teens. Then he slowly started to crank the life and soul and memories back in. According to the Betweeners, this was Dark magic. Naive idiots. They'd probably do a protego and forget to mind the gap. Who cared what magic it was, so long as it was usable? And this was very usable, the Marquis grinned. To do this ritual, you have to be completely at the power and mercy of another person, which is why it was so rare. That, and it was time-confusing, caused nightmares for both the participants, and both had to be completely willing to do this without knowing who the other person was. Not to mention, the exchange of blood. Yes, alright. It was rather nasty, requiring for a few sacrifices... so? It was what Door asked of him, and in return...

In return? A trip to Hogwarts over winter break. He wanted to see that In-Betweener school, and maybe take a few souvenirs with him.


	11. Chapter 11

"Nymphadora Ingress Tonks!" Minerva rarely had trouble pronouncing names, but really, what was Andromeda thinking, giving the child a name like that!

"It's just TONKS! Those who call me Nymphadora will PAY! Although Ingress is fine if you're a friend." Ah, yes, Minerva nodded to herself. The Black temper. Although really, Ingress was so much easier to pronounce than Nymphadora.

The hat on her head was dank and smelly. It decided that she was _brave, almost reckless_ \- duh! - _smart, you like learning_ \- duh! Remus taught her, of course she was smart, and she was going to be an auror, she had to be smart - _ambitious enough for Slytherin, it is very hard to be an auror, and your determination is your main quality...no wait, go back to your family... hmm... very loyal. You'd die for any of them, for your mother and father, for your sister and Richard, and your brother Harry and Remus._  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Damn right. Hogwarts was going to be brilliant... Then she realized that she had just cycled her hair from dark green to minty blue and then to pink. While everyone was watching.

Well, fine! Let them stare. She was totally cool with everyone just looking at her even during the sorting, with the whispering and pointing. With the hisses and side glances.

A few days later, Tonks cracked. Why were people looking at her light that? It made her hair go really long and dark and bushy. Didn't they have their own lives?

Instead of going to her Herbology class, Tonks pressed her hand to the middle of the door to the training room for first years. Words appeared on the door:

NYMPHADORA INGRESS TONKS

HUFFLEPUFF - 1st year

YES NO

Tonks quickly pressed YES and the door opened. For a moment, there was silence, and then a human - shaped figure, entirely out of silver, stepped forward. He showed her the protego spell, she repeated it.

Then they dueled quickly, with him pressing her back, assessing her level. She was only permitted to use protego during this duel - this one was to build her power levels, her ability to dodge. When she was taught more spells, then they'd start really dueling, maybe in two months. But until then, she was to grow proficient at the spells the silver-figure taught her.

She had an unfair advantage - she was taught by Remus, and she was taught before any of these kids. She had years of training on them - she was gonna dominate the scoreboard! If her score was good enough at first year, the silver figure would duel her at second year level, and her name would appear on the second-year scoreboard. Maybe she could get up to third year while still in first year 'cuz of the training! All the people wanted to stare at her? She'd give them a reason to stare - she'd prove she's better than anyone!

Then a thought stopped her in her tracks. If she was so much better than everyone else, who were complaining about how hard it was, then Harry was gonna be brilliant. He was gonna be, in, like sixth year's scoreboard in his first year! That was SO unfair.

She was gonna have to be so good, that no matter what Harry's scores were, he couldn't beat her.

The meetings between Severus, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye and Remus had slowly tapered off. They had gone to the Black Family House - number 12, Grimmauld place, and destroyed the locket with fiendfyre while Kreacher watched. Then, after Severus and Dumbledore left, Mad-Eye had changed the wards to feed of dark magic. Hopefully, that would weaken curses and dark creatures (Boggarts, Doxies) after a while. But after the locket, everything seemed to slow.

They had gotten two horcruxes - two out of five. But there was no where else to search. Unless they wanted to turn over each and every Death Eater home and bank account, which was illegal and dangerous on so many levels that it bordered on stupidity, all they could do was wait for something to change.

Two years later, (he was seven now, an adult, a big boy!) Harry read the letter from his sister Ingress, frowning.

So. All the teachers were biased without knowing it, were they? Some discounted Hufflepuffs just because, Snape favored Slytherins, McGonagall asked Gryffindors the questions, and Sprout asked Hufflepuffs the questions.

Hhm... Ingress hadn't written it this way before. When she wrote letters about teachers, it was just "this guy's mean, this one's nice." So maybe she was starting to notice things? At any rate, if Tonks thought it was a problem, then it was a problem. He trusted Ingress, his sister.

That would need to change. Of course, he should be studying. But really, who cared about animagus training? He was a child, he was allowed to take a break. Harry pulled out a few pieces of parchment, a quill and two bottles of ink - black ink and lemon juice, also used as invisible ink.

On the front of the parchment, in shaky, bad penmanship, Harry wrote:

 _Dear Profffesor Snape,_

 _I am Harry Potter. Uncle Mony said that my fatther was meen to yu. I wann't to say sorrry so I'm saiing sorry. Sorry._

 _-Harry_

 _P.S. You don't gotta answer if yu dunt want to._

Then, on the back of the parchment, Harry carefully began to write his first contract... in lemon juice, with a quill, in a Manor you have to go by sewers to reach. Harry carefully unlocked his fae powers, and wrote out his fae name. Then he kept writing, pausing to look up words in a nearby dictionary every so often.

Dubhshláine, the writer of this contract, to Severus Snape:

If Severus Snape reads the letter from Harry Potter to his person, then he is agreeing to the contract written here. If he does not read the letter from Harry Potter, written on the opposite side of the parchment, then he is not bound by the following contract:

Severus Snape agrees not to discriminate against students based on their Hogwarts House, their family, their political connections or their physical appearance. Severus Snape may treat students differently from one another based on the amount of respect he receives from said student, the way this student treats other students or teachers, the student's work ethic and potions skill. 

Dubhshláine

That was letter one, completed. Harry gave it to a nearby waiting owl, and quickly ordered the bird to take the letter to "Snape, at Hogwarts, and then come right back. Don't wait for an answer."

Letter two:

 _Daer Profffessor McGonnagall,_

 _I am Harry Potter. Can you please tell me about my mum and dad? I know dad liked trans-changing-magic, and mum liked charms._

 _-Love, Harry._

And on the back:

Dubhshláine, the writer of this contract, to Minerva McGonagall:

If Minerva McGonagall reads the letter from Harry Potter to her person, then she is agreeing to the contract written here. If she does not read the letter from Harry Potter, written on the opposite side of the parchment, then she is not bound by the following contract:

Minerva McGonagall agrees not to discriminate against students based on their Hogwarts House, their family, their political connections or their physical appearance. Minerva McGonagall may treat students differently from one another based on the amount of respect she receives from said student, the way this student treats other students or teachers, the student's work ethic and transfiguration skill. 

Dubhshláine

And thus went all the letters, with simple variations. Dear Flitwick, tell me about my father - he liked pranks, but what else did he do? By the way, you now cannot discriminate. Dear Sprout, Hootch, all of Tonk's teachers, you now have to treat everyone equally. Even Madam Pomphrey, the healer, was forced to stop discriminating. Harry gave a sharp whistle, summoning an enormous amount of owls. He quickly handed out the rest of the letters, but for these, he asked for an answer.

Dear teachers, you will treat all the kids in your school equally.

Thank you for reading my letters.

Severus Snape was eating dinner when he received a letter. Traditionally, mail came at breakfast, but that didn't mean that there was no post at dinner time - it just meant that mail was rare.

The letter had a child's handwriting and spelling, and it was apologizing for a parent's misdeed. Severus Snape read the letter carefully, not missing a single word. He wasn't sure what to make of this. The child... what was that? Oh, yes, an added P.S. - he wouldn't have to answer.

How droll. He wasn't planning on doing so, anyway - what would he say?

That he felt his magic change as soon as he read the letter? That his fingers felt the bumps on the back of the parchment, and he immediately turned the parchment dark blue, reading the condemning contract that he unwittingly agreed to? Oh, this Potter was smart. Severus had nothing to tell him, except, perhaps "Welcome to Slytherin."

And, maybe, "That was so much like Lily. You apologized and made sure I couldn't make any more mistakes, either. The rules cut and set and clear. That contract is pure Lily. It was only the way you tricked me into it that was James, and I could forgive you that, because with contracts, I would do the same. Welcome to Slytherin, dear child. I will make your life hell for the next seven years because of how you are forcing me to behave with this contract."

Snape slipped the parchment into an inner pocket. He would burn it. It would not get rid of the contract, that was in his magic - he would fulfill the terms whether he wanted to or not. But it would not be good for his reputation to receive a letter and have others notice that a child was writing to him.

Just then, all the other teachers, barring the Headmaster, received a letter. Severus smirked. Obviously, the Potter Demon, Lily's Child, demanded equality. Everyone would be trapped in the contract, or there would be only one equal teacher, and that wouldn't do. They were trapped in the same contract as he was, which meant that suddenly, there was no more 'favorite teacher' - it was 'favorite subject.'

He grinned to himself. The other teachers wouldn't even notice until class time - They didn't regulate his magic like he did, how could they, when his Occlumency was so much better?

But Potter's child will pay for the utterly Slytherin ploy. It would be quiet a lot of fun, trying to make seven years hell without discrimination. Maybe he could ask Peeves...?

Richard raised an eyebrow. Tonk's letters were expressive and long and very full of ramblings, but he understood the point - first all the teachers had favorites, then she told Harry about it. Harry makes no mention of this in his letter to her, but the same evening, all the teachers receive a letter, and suddenly, no more favorites, or at least - favorites based on work ethic and talent. And that's it. And everyone knew that Harry knew about contracts.

As if he didn't have enough problems to take care of. The Rats were still panicking about the 'not-rat-man with one less toe' even years later, Harry was due to loose his horcrux any day now, they needed to check if Harry needed glasses, Door had to manage London Below business which he didn't understand but that's OK because she's Lady Door and nobility and he was Hunter, and they needed to figure out why Remus' eyes flashed yellow at Tonk's name, or why Tonks wrote twice as much to Remus as to everyone else. And they needed to find the rest of the soul shards.

Harry was staring at him.

Had he said the last paragraph out loud? Oh. Dear.

"So. Harry. Did you trap your future teachers into a contract? And may I have a copy of the contract? I'm not angry, don't worry."

"I know you're not angry. I said that they couldn't discriminate, and they had to treat everyone equally. And that's it. They could have favorites based on a student's work ethic and talent and respect for teachers, but that's it. And yeah, I trapped them into a contract. But I just gave them laws they would have to follow in Above anyway. I don't like trapping people into working for me. I just want to make a better world."

Richard sighed, looking at the little boy, scuffing his shoe.

"You know what? The next time you want to dabble in Fae magic, tell me. I'll help, or stop you depending on danger levels. But for now, let's get ice cream. I'm not in the mood for thinking."

That was the last time Harry had ice cream while having an extra soul in his body, because that night, his scar began to prick.

After he cried out, all three adults rushed into his room, and for the next twenty-four hours, tried to sooth him while he wept. His scar bled, sometimes heavily and sometimes just barely, but it never closed, and for a memorable four hours, he had a sudden high fever. Harry Potter tossed and turned, crying, as a soul shard was slowly being pushed out of his body. His head hurt and his vision swam, and his nausea came and went too suddenly for food.

And then it was over.

Twenty Four hours, and then something black and wispy forced itself out of his scar and dissipated. Harry relaxed, the pain gone. He decided that he was tired and was allowed to sleep, because he was not having animagus training after something like that, and so he rolled over and closed his eyes.

While he slept, owls returned, dropping off letters from teachers... and a certain headmaster.

Tonks grinned at herself in the mirror. She was going home for the holidays! Christmas in London Below was... indescribable. She'd made a LOT of friends - Bill was cool, and so was Charlie; they were brothers and had a lot more at home. A Slytherin girl called Davies, she was nice. S'matter of fact, all the Slytherins were nicer than she expected from the stories, and really, the rivalry wasn't that bad. No one was hexing each other in the hallways - instead, it was who had the highest scoreboard rank?

She did. Duh.

But she really, really couldn't wait to go home, to see Remus. And Mum and Dad and Door and Richard (When will they get married already?!) and Harry. She was in her third year, and in her scoreboard, she was in really high fourth - she'd be in fifth year soon!

Tonks grinned as she slid over on the compartment seat next to her friends, so that more people could enter. The Hogwarts express was comfortable, and she was happy about going home.

"Hey Tonks!"

"Charlie! Still chasing dragons?"

"Forever. Hagrid knows all about them. Listen, Tonks, um..."

"Hhm?" Tonks raised at eyebrow. Charlie was older than her, a Gryffindor, but he was smart - not canon fodder. A good friend.

"Willyoupleasegooutwithme?"

"Slower?"

"When we come back to school. From break. There's a Hogsmeade weekend. And. I, um, wanted to um, go, with you. Yeah. Come with me?" Oh... Oh, Charlie... Tonks blinked. He was her dear friend. But she didn't want him like that. First of all, she was thirteen. A bit young. Second of all, she was in no mood to go out with anyone at all in her life ever. The only boy she could talk to without it being weird was Remus. Daddy didn't count cuz he was daddy, Harry was her brother, and Richard was her brother-in-law-to-be. Soon. She hoped. Richard and Door were made for each other.

"No. Not as a date, at any rate. But as friends, sure. I need to stock up on Chocolate, anyway." Tonks watched as Charlie deflated, but he perked up after a few empty sentences and went to ask another girl. Casanova, as Mum would say. Oh. Well. It didn't matter. She had Remus.

**************  
Several months ago, in early October, Door put three drops on Remus' tongue. It was all that was needed to make Veritaseum work.

"How do you feel about Ingress?"

"She's pack. Family. And clever. Had she been older, Moony would think of her as a potential mate."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes." Door gaped, and Richard took over.

"Do you love Harry?"

"Yes."

"Door? Andromeda? Ted? Fleur? Apolline?"

"Yes. yes. Yes. Yes. No. I like her, but don't love her." Door relaxed.

"Do you love Richard? How would you describe your love?"

"Yes. The same way I love Door and Ted and Andromeda. I love Harry and Fleur more fiercely because they're children, and need protection."

"Had Ingress been older..."

"Had Nymphadora Ingress Tonks been older than seventeen, I would have married her as soon as possible. As it is, she is a child, so I will protect her until she mates. I am past my prime and she is not yet in hers, thus our lifetimes should not be spent together."

There was a long moment of silence. Then...

"Well, Betweeners tend to live longer than the rest of us, so even if he were forty, he'd still have a lot of time left with Ingress... but I think that we should de-age Remus' body to be seventeen, so then he'll only be four years older than Ingress. We could say it was a prank. And he's the only one I trust with my sister, anyway, so no matter what age he is, I'm only letting Remus near Ingress. I'll get the Marquis to figure it out. So long as it's done before Christmas. In return, the Marquis can spend Christmas with us!"

*************  
The Marquis sighed. It was really quiet difficult, what Door had asked him to do. He had removed the soul, the life and memories from the container, the body. Then he rewound the body clock until the child was seventeen. Or sixteen, or eighteen, who knows. Late teens. Then he slowly started to crank the life and soul and memories back in. According to the Betweeners, this was Dark magic. Naive idiots.

They'd probably do a protego and forget to mind the gap.

Who cared what magic it was, so long as it was usable? _And this was very usable_ , the Marquis grinned. To do this ritual, you have to be completely at the power and mercy of another person, which is why it was so rare. That, and it was time-confusing, caused nightmares for both the participants which lasted until the person was back at the age he was when the ritual was done, and both had to be completely willing to do this without knowing who the other person was. Not to mention, the exchange of blood, which makes the person doing the de-aging responsible for the person being de-aged until he is an adult. _Thank the gods Remus will be seventeen, so I won't have to watch over him. Thank all the gods with everything..._

Yes, alright. It was rather nasty, requiring for a few sacrifices... so? It was what Door asked of him, and in return...

In return? A trip to Hogwarts over winter break. He wanted to see that In-Betweener school, and maybe take a few souvenirs with him.

Not to mention, he wanted to see this brilliant potions master that was the youngest in several centuries.

Shaking his head to clear it, the Marquis focused on the ritual. It was time for another sacrifice.

Dumbledore gaped. It was unusual, to say the least, but he re-read the letter again.

 _Dear Dumbledore, this is the Lady Door._

 _A trading partner of mine did me a great_ _favor, and in return he wishes to spend Christmas Break at Hogwarts, asking questions and otherwise annoying the staff._

 _He won't be any trouble - the Marquis will bring his own sleeping bag, and can sleep in your Forest. I pity those who try to bother him._

 _-Lady Door._

 _My trading partner goes by the Marquis de Carabas, but you can call him Marquis._

Well. This had never happened before, but he had met Lady Door when she and Richard came over to check on the wards. The only thing that bothered him was Door's avoidance of saying "friend", or even "acquaintance." Trading Partner meant that this was purely business, that if the Marquis turned out to be a murderer, that was not her concern.

At least there will be very few children - some seventh-year Ravenclaws who wanted to study, but that's it. It seamed that with the lowering of school tensions due to all the extra free rooms, there were more study groups and the children were better prepared... then again, that may be because the DADA practice rooms had children practicing transfigurations and charms to stop an opponent in their tracks - banishing some rocks towards them, or turning the air in front of them and around them into stone.

Ingenious - the children learned to fight, and learned more and more complex charms and transfigurations as a result.

This meant that if the Marquis was a murderer, then the Ravenclaws stood a far better chance than they would have without the training rooms. Not to mention, at this point, there were more teachers in the castle than children. Madam Irma Pince, the librarian, could watch over the children. And all the suits of armor and the wooden nymphs...

Yes, he could afford to let the Marquis inside.

Door, Andromeda and Ted took turns hugging Ingress - call me Tonks! - on the platform, and most people were edging around the strange group. A witch, pureblood judging by her posture and features, two male muggles, some woman who dressed for both worlds, and a child with proper robes... and _jeans_ underneath, and really old boots. And she was clearly very happy she was going back home. Hogwarts was great and all, but really, the Headmaster clearly didn't know about London Below. Just by the way he expected everything to be solved peacefully...

Next thing you know, he'll be letting the Marquis into Hogwarts! No, it's nice to take a break and go home, see this wonderful surprise that Door keeps rambling about, find out where Remus, Harry and Fleur are and do her homework. It's hard to keep an eye on all the students when the headmaster doesn't believe in punishing bullies or teaching about prejudice. I mean really, he clearly is not from London Below, where it's you and your wits and the Time around you.

She's have to bet with Door whether the Headmaster was stupid enough to let someone like the Marquis into Hogwarts.


	12. Chapter 12

Dumbledore had requisition Mad-Eye to bring the Marquis. He was expected to wait in Trafalgar Square, with Lady Door. Apparently, Door had decided, at the last minute, to go with the Marquis.

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried, but he didn't have time to be either, because Alastor, Door, and the Marquis were in his office, having Portkeyed in. Alastor spoke first.

"The man stinks of dark magic, but the girl's covered in time - I'd say she was using a time-turner on a daily basis, but she's pure muggle, and the time is too contained to be used, it just clings to her. The man, the Marquis, he smells like Riddle did, like the Death Eaters did - coal, blood, smoke, and burning flesh. He did something really dark just before coming here. I hope you know what you're doing, Albus."

And then he left, leaving Dumbledore to carefully consider his choices. The Marquis was looking at the silver objects and instruments in his office, while Door was flipping through a book.

"Would you like a tour, Marquis?"

"An explanation, first."

There was only one chair in front of his desk, and the Marquis took it. He quickly conjured a sensible, wooden chair for Door.

"Alright, now to introductions. I am the Marquis de Carabas, this is the lovely Lady Door, and you must be Headmaster Dumbledore. Let's have a quid pro quo. What are all those fancy machines for?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Marquis de Carabas. This one monitors the Acromantulas that Hagrid befriended. If the colony gets too big, I'll discreetly make it smaller. That one monitors the average happiness of the Ravenclaws, that one of the Slytherins, that one of the Hufflepuffs, and that one of the Gryffindors..." It took a small while to give all these brief explanations. He refused to explain how they worked - the Marquis was going to ruin them somehow if he did so.

Now, it was time for his question. (It was interesting to see that the Lady Door was still reading her book, though now she came to sit in the chair he had conjured for her. A book on Animagi? Interesting...)

"Why do you smell of Dark magic?"

"Because I performed Dark magic. My turn. What do you know of the Fae?"

"I... they have a talent in contracts. They are not quite of this world. They can be repelled by iron, though they dislike salt. Every so often, one of them will mate with a human. There was a colony, in France, that is still Fae, but their powers are... diluted, or rather, slightly changed to suit the needs of Earth, because they have lived over here for so long. Those are the Veela. Same thing for Greece, the Sirens are another Fae tribe that was changed, slightly, by living on Earth for so long. The Fae take care of their own - every Fae is born with a separate name, a sort of separate identity. That separate identity, that name, holds the key to all their Fae powers. That's it. Why ask me this question?"

"Because I wanted to know the answer. Why did you leave Harry at his aunt's doorstep?"

"Because he would be safest there. How did you know about that?"

"My sources told me. Will you take me on that tour?"

"Most certainly. Lady Door?" Dumbledore stood, as did the Marquis, but Door simply glanced up.

"May I borrow this book, Headmaster?"

"Certainly. May I ask why?"

"A friend of mine is studying animagi. This seems like a good book. Also, I've decided that the Marquis cannot possibly destroy everything this quickly, so I'm going to leave him in your hands. Do try to end the day without owing him. And please send me back to Trafalgar Square."

Dumbledore did so, then turned to start the tour. Perhaps the library first? And then the Great Hall...? Or the new rooms that were added by Remus and Door and Richard.

At any rate, he would show everything, and from now on, he would give as little information as possible.

At home, Door was met with a group of people in the living room. Richard, Harry, Remus, Ingress, Andromeda, Ted, Fleur, Apolline, Apolline's other daughter, who was a year and a few months -what was her name? Gaby? Gavrielle? Gabrielle! - and Apolline's husband. She immediately tossed the book in Harry's direction, and he caught it, glanced at the title and groaned.

Another animagus book! Just because he couldn't do it, couldn't get farther than the meditation point, didn't mean everyone had to help!

"So, I did as we planned - went to check out how Dumbledore would handle the Marquis. I think that it'll be all right. Dumbledore gives a lot of information, but nothing useful, so the Marquis won't learn anything new. And the idea of the Marquis giving useful information is laughable. So they'll just try to outsmart each other. And the teachers... well, apart from Snape, they don't know anything useful, and Snape's like Dumbledore."

Everyone nodded, and quickly went back to trying to decorating the tree. It was so much more important than trying to stop people from taking over the world - people like Voldemort, people like the Marquis.

If Voldemort owed the Marquis a single favor...

Door's rumination was forcibly stopped when Ingress pulled her away.

"All right, what have you done to Remus?"

"I'm sorry...?"

"He's young. Like, seventeen! And he was older than you! And don't tell me this is just some prank - that worked on Apolline and Fleur and the father whose name I cannot pronounce cuz damned French, but that won't work on me or Remus."

"He loves you. He doesn't know it yet, not really, and he has a huge guilt complex because he's a were, but his wolf, Moony is head over heals for you, and Remus the human isn't far behind. But he doesn't want to inflict himself on you, and also, he's too old for you, so we've turned back the body clock."

"He stinks of Dark magic! It's dangerous - _Dark magic is always permanent or semi-permanent in intention!_ If you do it, there's no going back! And he stinks of it! The French won't notice, but I'm gonna be an auror so I'm studying how to tell if people used Dark Magic, and Remus might have agreed to be younger in principle, but that doesn't mean he thinks it's literally a good idea!"

"Alright! Calmit, Ingress. Yes, it was dark magic. Yeah, he's going to have nightmares. But this way, he has a second chance to be happy! And yes, the ritual required several sacrifices. So? The Marquis sacrificed two lower level Death Eaters for the ritual, because you know what? To be a Death Eater, you have to kill someone. That's murder. And if this ritual requires the blood of a murder murdered, then who are we to argue? I and Andromeda just went into the ministry and stunned the first two Death Eaters that crossed our paths! We handed them off to the Marquis, and off we go, the Death Eaters get their just desserts, and Remus gets younger!"

"And what about the 'blood of the innocent'? Did you just kill a child?"

"No. We found a robin, and killed it. Innocent blood - not human blood."

"How did you know that the people you stunned were Death Eaters?"

"Amelia Bones has a special map of the ministry - it shows the names of everyone in the ministry, and where they are. And.. the Death Eaters turn up red on the map, because their magic is different from everyone else's, and they're classified differently in the Ministry's wards. Look, we were careful. But now, Remus has a second chance, and the only thing that made people disprove of the two of you is the age difference. Now he's seventeen. You're thirteen. That's a four year difference, it's not so bad, so all the disapproval will leave. Mentally, he's still... what? Forty? Older. It doesn't matter."

Ingress stared at her sister.

"That's a lot of planning for just one ritual. Changing the ministry's wards? An entire map?"

"It's not just for the ritual... Ingress, our father refused to help Islington, and Islington had us all killed. Do you honestly think that the Death Eaters will let Harry go? That Voldemort won't come back?"

Well. Ingress swallowed.

"I was going to be an auror, anyway. It's nice to know that I'll have some real enemies to fight against." And she was really really really happy that Remus was here. Cuz he was hot, and patient and great, and had some wicked prank ideas. He was a good teacher, and gentle and sweet and it wasn't like he had any other girls to speak to.

Her crush was perfect.

Door raised an eyebrow at Ingress' blissful expression. She wasn't sure if it was at the idea of fighting, or if it was about Remus. At any rate...

"Why don't we go back to the party?" She suggested.

Daily Prophet news was so very accurate.

Apparently, having read an article about Rita Skeeter insulting Dumbledore, Andromeda and Apolline had requested several bottles of veritaseum from Snape, and for Harry to write out several contracts. There were two different contracts, and the witches could just make a copy of whichever contract was needed.

The first contract went like this:

 _I, Dubhshláine, am the author of this contract._

 _I, _, am an editor of the Daily Prophet. I, _, agree to make sure that the Daily Prophet's articles are as close to fact as possible, and any opinions are clearly labeled as such. Furthermore, I, _, agree to make sure that for most of the opinions discussed in the Prophet, there will be a counter-opinions, so in each article, there are two opinions - one for each side of the argument, with as many relevant facts as possible supporting each opinion. I will do my best to make the Daily Prophet as bias-free as possible. I won't let anyone know about this contract._

 _In return for the editor signing the contract, I, Dubhshláine, give the Daily Prophet right to interview one Harry James Potter every nine months on any issue. These interview rights cannot be used at a later point - if Harry Potter is not interviewed for nine months, that does not mean that he can be interviewed twice during next nine-month period._

The second contract went somewhat similarly:

 _I, Dubhshláine, am the author of this contract._

 _I, _, am a journalist working for the Daily Prophet, and this contract will only be in effect while I, _ work for the Daily Prophet. I agree to make my articles as fact-based as possible, and any opinions will be clearly labelled as such. If possible, for as many points of view in the articles I submit to the Daily Prophet, there will be a counter-arguments and opinions. Both points of view will be equally researched and will be written about with as little bias as possible, and with as many facts as possible. The Journalist will not let anyone know of this contract._

 _In return for the journalist signing the contract, I, Dubhshláine, give the Daily Prophet right to interview one Harry James Potter every nine months on any issue. These interview rights cannot be used at a later point - if Harry Potter is not interviewed for nine months, that does not mean that he can be interviewed twice during next nine-month period._

So, during the weekend, Apolline went into the Daily Prophet's office, asking to be interviewed privately by one journalist at a time - she was looking for a private reporter to explain the relationship between the French and British ministry.

She would talk to reporters one at a time, and choose whichever reporter she wanted. Naturally, all the men lined up. She was a Veela, and her allure was slightly on.

Meanwhile, Andromeda was disillusioned and covered with notice-me-not charms. And standing nearby the reporter who was leading Apolline to a separate room. As soon as the two witches and one wizard were alone in the room, Apolline summoned the boy's wand, and Andromeda forced Veritaseum down his throat. He couldn't see her, how could he fight against her without a wand when she had one at his temple?

"What is your name and how do you spell it?"

"Daniel Ruthford. D-A-N-I-E-L space R-U-T-H-F-O-R-D."

Apolline smiled and gave him the journalist contract.

"Sign. Or my associate will blow your brains out. Don't forget to read the contract!"

The boy signed, quickly reading the contract afterwards. It wasn't like he had a choice, anyway. He slowly looked up after re-reading it.

"I guess I'll just go and send the next reporters in, one at a time. Right?" His voice was quiet and... hopeful? Well, he figured it out. Smart boy - probably Ravenclaw, thought Andromeda, although Ravens weren't the only smart people.

"Yes. And after that, the editors, one at a time. You may announce it however you wish, but all reporters and all editors must go through this room one at a time before midnight."

Apolline wasn't sure what the boy said. Apparently, it involved some curse being broken by the true kiss of the master storyteller, which was why she had come to the Daily Prophet. If they didn't want to kiss, she could tell them about the French Ministry. They bought it.

They also all lined up hopefully, whether at a chance to kiss or at a chance to report the ongoings of the French up to the separate people.

But after that day, the Daily Prophet's writing was suddenly the new goal - Witch Weekly wanted its reporters to have stories like that, stories that were easy to follow and told both sides of the story. Furthermore, so many people subscribed to the Daily Prophet that they began printing twice as many newspapers.

It also meant that the deaths of every Azkaban Death Eater received a full page coverage, with photos of each Death Eater and a list of crimes next to each name, with a brief overview of the trials.

...

Then Rita Skeeter, chaffing under the new contract, found out that Sirius Black never had a trial. She interviewed Minister Fudge about this, and then went on a rampage, asking Amelia Bones what she thought before going to every Wizengamot member and Albus Dumbledore himself, asking why a human being never received a trial. Was there proof that he was guilty, anyway? Rita paused, then smirked.

As a journalist, she could interview prisoners. It was time to ask Black himself what he thought... and she had veritaseum. Illegally bought, but that's acceptable by the contract - no one said how she had to get her information.

Or, maybe... With a small smirk, Rita Skeeter asked Bones to accompany her for this interview. After all, Bones' reaction would be rather fun to write, especially since someone had donated a pensive and a camera to the Daily Prophet. Now, each story had photos - the person interviewed could give memories so that they would be photographed, or the reporter him/herself could donate his/her memories to be photographed.

"Peter Pettigrew is a rat animagus without a finger...Oh, the story!"

Then Bones gasped.  
"You can't print this! If Pettigrew reads that and runs away - Skeeter, I'm asking you to find me a rat with nineteen fingers, that's been alive for nine years. Pettigrew's lazy, so he's probably someone's pet, and rat's don't cost much, so someone poor. And if you bring me the rat, I'll give rights to interview me - so no one else can. Is that alright?"

There was a beat of silence.

"All right. But after Pettigrew's captured, can I write out the whole story? Including that I got him?" Bones blinked at the question. She wanted justice - how the story was told wasn't her business. Instead, she told Black to stay put, they were getting him out, and grabbed Skeeter, bringing the woman to her office and rummaging through her desk.

"Yes, Yes, alright, you can have the story Now, things you'll need... a cover story, some magic-binding collars, here, you put one on any wrist, or paw, or whatever, and they bind the magic completely - should turn Pettigrew into human form and knock him unconscious, we're working on a spell that eliminates your animagus form... You cover is that you're from the, uh - Department of Research, they're checking how different Rat Whiskers effect potions, they want him for a week and no harm will come to him - he'll be fed well and treated well, we don't want him to run, here, put him in this cage, let me ward it..."

Skeeter watched, mouth half-open. She could do this, easily. Getting someone to hand over their rat? Simple! The wards, too, were simply put - they were wards that encouraged sleepiness and trust and a feeling of home.

The cage was enchanted to grow as Pettigrew did, so if he became human, the cage would grow to fit him.

Skeeter took a deep breath in.

"I'll come back for the cage within a week. Give me a minute."

Step one: spread rumors around the ministry that if you submitted your rat to Bones' department, she'd give you three sickles if its' the right type of rat. Explain that this is for research, that the rat would be treated wonderfully for the rest of its miserable life, so on and so forth.

Yes, Ms. Bones is terrifying. No one wants to bother her - what if they have the wrong type of rat, what would she do then? Three sickles aren't worth it.

Step two: Of course thee sickles are worth it! Just come to Ms. Skeeter! She'll take your rat, check if it's the right type, and if it's wrong, give it right back. If it's the right type, then great! She'll give you the three sickles and take the rat to Bones!

Step three: Check out who pays the most attention to the rumors. Arthur Weasley's poor, and he has a rat - check his home out as a beetle, and if it's the wrong rat, stay away. If it's the right rat, knock on his door. John Hopkins is rich, but he has a... rat collection?! Oh, dear. That may take a while. Verily Brown has mice. No, sorry darling, it's rats only. But would you like to comment on werewolf rights?

Note: ALWAYS carry the cage and collar with you.

Arthur Weasley had Peter Pettigrew. Or rather, his son Percy did. It only took a moment of scurrying around the kitchen in Beetle form- the rat matched Black's description perfectly. With a smile, Rita appeared in front of the Burrow and knocked on the door.

"Yes, dear?" A red-headed, plump woman opened the door. Molly Weasely.

"Hello Mrs. Weasely, I'm Ms. Skeeter. The Department of Research is looking into the effect rat whiskers have on potions, and I've heard you have a rat. I only want it for a week, please. It will be treated well, given food and water, and there are new and special spells to ensure that the rats won't feel pain when the whiskers are plucked. In return, here are three sickles. May I enter?"

Molly Weasely saved Rita in, giving her a full dinner and ordering Percy to bring down Scabbers right away. As Rita re-explained the proposal to the little boy, she made sure the rat was within hearing range.

"It's Percy's rat, ma'am, so I have to ask him for permission, and the three sickles are his."

Percy gave over the rat immediately, and Rita slipped on a collar on the front left wrist, quickly adding another on the front right, and the two back legs, before putting the rat into the cage and locking the door before it could realize that his magic was slowly being bound, using equipment from way back in Grindelwald's time, before it was decreed too harsh and not used anymore.

She gave Percy three sickles, left the Burrow, and brought Peter Pettigrew to Madam Bones before going away to print the full story... except maybe without the bit about the collars. After all, she didn't want to get in trouble for using them. At any rate, Black should have a trial very soon, and Pettigrew should be a squib within twenty-four hours... during which time he would be asleep.

Bones and Skeeter smiled the same terrifying smile, but for different reasons. Bones because justice would soon be done, and Skeeter because first of all, this story would make her the most famous reporter ever, and second of all, she'd soon get her old lover back.


	13. Chapter 13

People who had the Daily Prophet gaped. There were stories about people dropping dead or turning into squibs and falling into week-long comas for several months now. Depending on how connected the Death Eater was to their magic, when it failed, they either died or fell into comas...

And there was proof that only Death Eaters were in danger: each person was found with a Dark Mark on their arm. Then, the Azkaban Justice, as it was called - one day, every Death Eater's magic just failed, and they died. You can't survive dementors, little to no food, and cold weather without magic. Most of the world was waiting for Lucius to fall, but has his manor's wards fed on a soul-shard, he was safe a a little while yet... until the entire ministry's wards started feeding on him and Voldemort's souls.

And now... well, most of the world had assumed that this was some sort of vigilante, and were scared. Then the pattern became obvious - each man dead was Marked, and then only the marked began to pay for bodyguards and such.

It was when the Black-Pettigrew story came out that people began to question if it was a vigilante after all. What's to say this person wasn't some organization, dedicating to righting wrongs? Black wasn't able to take charge of Potter, continued the article, due to damage to the mind - after all, who could survive nine years in Azkaban and come out healthy? Instead, he was going to recuperate in St. Mungos for a bit, then he was going to live with his best friend, Remus.

Due to the money granted to Black in apology for the never-granted trial, his bad-boy looks and ex-con sob story, he was also the most wanted Bachelor, noted Rita Skeeter.

She also noted that Pettigrew was a squib, and he was sentenced to Azkaban for life. In other words, he had only a few weeks left to live.

Then again, Rita noted, the man was a murderer. Let's let him die.

Harry laughed as Door read aloud the article. Fleur was in school now, in Beaxbatons, and although he'd be in school soon as well, he was so bored. But Door told him that Sirius would be coming to live with them in three months, and Remus had said that the man never really grew up.

Harry was expecting pranks, and lots of them.

They were also going to get him new glasses in honor of the occasion of getting his godfather out of jail. When he got his first pair, he requested pure round ones. That was boring and made him look stupid.

Now, they were going to get something that made him look nice, and adult. After all, his hair just brushed his shoulders, and while he made himself a ponytail sometimes, the round glasses made him look too girly. He needed something more, well, boyish.

He was nine years old! He was almost an adult, he was going to school very very soon! And he needed to be _cool._ Door grinned at him.

"Ready to go?" Harry grabbed his ribbon and pulled his hair into a high pony tail. Some may say it's girly, but he knew better - if it was any shorter, it would be in his eyes and it would be impossible to tame. Besides, this way, he looked more like his mother, who also wore high pony-tails.

Harry knew a lot about his father; most of the letters he sent to the teachers were answered with stories and photographs. And as his father was more outgoing, he knew a lot more about his father than he knew about his mother. Not to mention, most of Remus' stories were about his father. He wanted to know about his Mother.

"Coming, mum!" He called out to Door, running ahead of her and into the streets of London Above. As a child, until he was thirteen, he had all three worlds. They all payed attention to him, and someone called after him to tie his shoelaces. Door jogged after him, and no one called out at his mum. Of course they didn't.

Mummy was the scariest person he had every seen. Except maybe Dad, when he was being Hunter, when he ran outside and threw his spear and something wet and bloody fell to the ground.

Naw. Mum was scarier.

He slowed down, walking into the eye-glasses store. He glanced around a bit.

"Are you alone, young man?" The woman behind the counter smiled kindly.

"Nah, Mum doesn't let me go anywhere alone. She's right outside." Mum was inside, in fact, - Door was looking at the advertisements with interest, as she handed him some money beforehand and let him loose.

"Anyway, here's my prescription." Harry handed the woman his receipt from the eye doctor last week; Remus had taken him.

"Why don't you try on a few of these pairs?" Harry grabbed thin, rectangular dark green lenses, before turning to Door.

"You look a lot more like Lily. You have her eyes, and this emphasizes her cheekbones. But they're thin and sharp, make you look more adult. And Harry, with all those scrapes and bruises, you'll look like a boy no matter which glasses you pick. Stop worrying."  
Harry's response was predictable.

"Girls have COOTIES! I can't look like a Girl!"

The manager blinked.

"Young man, trust me, in a few years, you'll change your mind about the cooties."

_line break _

Sirius looked around the manner. The lady, Door, had left him alone with a pensive, consisting of some of the important memories. How they took Harry away, the plans with the wards, the horcruxes - and since Door was revealing the secret, Remus was safe, his oath to Dumbledore, Snape, and Mad-Eye still intact.

And a few details about Harry, of course. How he grew up, some inside jokes, and such.

Sirius sighed. They wouldn't let him see Remus until he went through the pensive. Apparently, there was something he needed to see first.

He didn't know what it was.

Sirius closed his eyes. He was so... tired. In the hospital, everyone was nice to him, and when he asked for books, that's what he got. Books. Something to entertain himself with. He had learned Occlumency so as to rebuild his mind, and he had repeated his life story and made up a few goals every day. But that wasn't what helped him.

Every day, every single day, Rita snuck in. He knew how she did - he was the one to help her with her animagus form. And she told him everything that she knew -

Harry was placed someplace safe, according to Dumbledore. Due to his supposed mental health problems, he wouldn't be able to see Harry until he was eleven, just like her. Legally, only children who had started Hogwarts were allowed to be interviewed according to the Wizarding World. Rita had also snuck in Andromeda Black-Tonks, his cousin, who had quietly started updating him on information about wards and ministry plans and oh my god, Remus was basically taking over the wizarding world.

Except clearly, politically there were problems, because with all the dying Death Eaters, some rabid toad in pink was making a lot of noise.

That was the way he saw it, at any rate. So. Sirius went to the Goblins on one of the times he was allowed outside. It was easy to be made Lord Black - he just had to point out that he was the last Black, and he wanted to give everyone equal rights, and it's either him or a nine-year-old Draco Malfoy who does NOT want equal rights.

Then, he quickly reinstated Andromeda and her daughter (OH MY GOD, 'MEDA, WHAT DID YOU NAME THE KID THAT'S JUST CRUEL, DARK MAGIC - oh, she goes by Tonks? Smart little niece. He approved.) And he threw out Narcissa, but told the Goblins that you know what, if she publicly renounces Pureblood Supremacy and leaves her Lucius, then he'd put her back into the family and under his protection. And if her son wanted to be with his mother, he had to do the same.

Ha. He loved pranking people - Cissa was now either Malfoy or Black, and she couldn't be both. Just like her son.

Then, he quickly let Ted Tonks be named regent in his name. Imagine, a Muggle in the Wizengamot! But Ted was a lawyer in the Muggle world; he knew what he was doing. He was also rather good at it.

Sirius had no clue, but Ted said that he loved pulling circles around Purebloods, so that was that. It was just a silly prank. If it let the Pureblood supremacists get tied up, then that was that.

Also, apparently Amelia Bones loved Ted Tonks, and they were each other's main supporters. That was good. Rita also loved to interview Ted. After all, being Lawyer, he had a way with words - no editing for grammatical mistakes. Ever.

Anyway... Oh. Right. The Pensive. So, there was something about changing Hogwarts as well.

He sighed and leapt in, gaping as some guy called the Marquis took Harry off of some random house and gave him to a little slip of a girl. The next second, he threw something into the air, there was a glimmering door, and a young man stepped in, immediately looking at the spear (!?) in the Marquis' arms, before looking at the girl with such relief that Sirius decided they had to be married.

The next thing you know, they're in Knockturn. And they get there by... sewers. Lovely. But that's not Knockturn, not really, that's... the Floating Market? What?

Remus. Oh, god, Remus, he missed him -

And then there was some French lady who was a Veela, oh my, but she was married and had a kid. Yuck. That turned him off.

Wait. There's the Marquis again - what's the bastard doing to Harry? HORCRUX? WHAT! Oh, ok. So Harry's gonna get real smart. And kick Voldy's ass, of course.

Wait! There's the Market again, hm, - shit, that's Grayback! SHIT SHIT SHIT NO REMUS DON'T TAKE HIM TO HARRY -

Oh way to go Richard, nice spear throwing. Sirius approved.

Lookat that! Dear little Ingress is Nymphadora is Tonks! YAY! That's confusing. Alright. So his niece wasn't his niece...?

Oh, dear. Did they really change Hogwarts that much? And an ice skating rink? He totally approved of the added security.

Well, Dumbledore knows about the Horcruxes. He didn't like Dumbledore - bastard would give him Harry, his Harry; and didn't ask for a trial, either.

Oh, dear, pockets of time are the strangest and weirdest thing here. So, three Londons, huh? Above = Muggle, below = time-y weird, and between = Wizarding. He could do this. He could do this! He will figure out these three parallel worlds that Harry lived in!

Snape! What was SNAPE doing there! Ah. Ok. Using FiendFyre to burn down a house, using fire to burn down Inferni... Meh. Remus was better than the smily git at everything. One horcrux down... another down... oh crap, his brother, his little Regulus, his baby Regulus tried to fight against Voldemort, oh my god his little naive Slytherin brother - No time to cry. It's the next memory.

Harry's wand was perfect. It was all stupid Volde's fault for getting a wand that was brother to Harry's.

Remus loved Ingress-Dora-Tonks-Niece? Alright. That was like... Ok. Sure. Whatever. Remus would treat her right; Remus was cool like that.

Erm. He's seventeen, give or take, here. Is that a mixed up memory? No, that's Door, same age, and woah, Harry's big, and... he was so much like Lily, but so much like James, and he had a rather large bit of Dorea's (James's mother's) pragmatic attitude. Wait. Back to Remus. Who's what, de-aged. Oh, dear. The Marquis.

Ok. A dark ritual. But they killed two Death Eaters and a song bird. Alright. Cause it's the Marquis, who was like some creepy Knockturn dealer who'd do anything for the right price but isn't a Dark Lord because he doesn't do killing sprees, but is a Dark Lord cause he's powerful and everyone is kinda careful around him. Cool. Remus is seventeen. He was gonna get teased mercilessly.

Oh, the Daily Prophet, and Harry getting glasses. Yay. Well done Door, you know how to summarize things. Oh, is that it?

Because that was nine years worth of information getting stuck into his head. And dear god, all he could do now was faint.

_line break _

The Goblins laughed. The Black Regent was a Muggle. This was the closest anyone had every gone to giving the middle finger to Pureblood Supremacy! When the ex-convict had walked in, slightly crazed, talking about equal rights, the goblins decided that he was another liar who wanted their support. After all, no one treated anyone equal to themselves.

But what do you know? A Muggle, talking rings around the wizards! The Prophet interviewed him weekly as he dissected old laws that contradicted themselves and proposed different laws that treated everyone equally. He compared the current system to Hammurabi's code, and whichever Muggle had the guts to compare the entire Wizarding government to an ancient Muggle civilization was a warrior. Someone who stood up for his principles and fought, whether with words or weapons, was a warrior.

One of them called the Daily Prophet to tell them that the Goblins supported Ted Tonks and Amelia Bones whenever they agreed (which was rather often).

The Prophet quickly sent a reporter to Gringotts bank, intent on doing a piece on Goblin rights compared to Muggleborn rights compared to Pureblood rights.

If the Prophet accidentally started a revolution, at least they'd be able to Portkey to New Zealand.

_line break _

Voldemort sighed, floating around an Albanian Forest. At first, he thought that he'd be able to posses someone just in time for Harry Potter's first year... but no. Somehow, he couldn't drain magic from his Death Eaters... he'd have to wait until Harry Potter's second year to get enough power saved up.

Or rather, it was as if his Death Eaters didn't have power anymore. He had been connected to a huge source of energy - his Death Eaters. Now, it was as if his power source was slowly growing smaller. His connection to them wasn't weakening, he'd checked... so something else was killing off his little walking batteries/grenades. After all, they also caused massive destruction, so they weren't just batteries. At any rate, he would have to let Quirell go and keep gathering his powers slowly.

_line break _

Schedule was really very important to Sirius Black - not that he was worried about timing or anything, but small rituals helped keep his mind in order. It helped that Remus was always there, and that he really was never alone. Furthermore, Rita kept visiting every other day, until eventually, at Door's insistence, she just moved out of her small flat and into Door's mansion. This made Harry used to the reporter, and would really help a lot in his later years, and Rita was quietly getting him used to answering questions concisely when protocol demanded it, but with a fair story-telling fair when the occasion called for it.

Really, it was about reading the atmosphere, and Harry shamelessly used his fae powers to do that.

Also, with Sirius tutoring him, Harry had finally began to progress with his animagus form. It was some sort of bird... A predator. And while Harry was learning Animagus magic, Remus started practicing his Occlumency.

That's where the first breakthrough was made.

Moony and him were two different people fighting for control over the body. During the full moon, the wolf took control, and the reason he was trying to hunt down humans was to hurt Remus by taking away his pack. Just has werewolves almost always did their best to be as human-like as possible, so as to repulse and weaken the wolf within.

With Occlumency, a barrier was made in his mind between the two beings. And during the full moon, instead of fighting Moony, Remus simply went behind his barrier and let the wolf take his body.

That night, Moony didn't try to break into Door's manner. Instead, he ran around the forest. After all, for the entire night, he had control of the body, freely given. He had nothing more to win. After the Moon, he'd give the body back to the human, but really, he had won.

Moony howled.

The next morning, when Moony retreated without a fuss, Remus ran to Rita and Ted, who were just having breakfast.

Then he explained his idea.

There was a new law passed, that no one was allowed to refuse werewolves a job... so long as the werewolf promised to wear a special portkey all hours of every day. The portkey was activated by the wolf's turning. When the were-wolf began to turn into a wolf, he was portkeyed into a large forest, which was one of the lands of Lord Black. The forest was surrounded with a huge silver fence, but was also ridiculously large - the wolves wouldn't feel trapped, given that the forest was twenty square kilometers. The portkey was a freely given woven bracelet that went on the ankle. It grew with the wolf, so it wouldn't rip when the werewolf changed.

It was also two-way. Thus, when the wolves began to turn back into humans, they would be dropped into the place they were before. It was for all ages, and no names necessary - just walk into the Black Ancestral home where Andromeda Black-Tonks would make them swear never to hurt her or her family (a long list, which included one Harry Potter), and then she gave them a portkey. For free. She also gave them each a book on Occlumency, and made them promise they would do their best to learn it.

The boost on the work force after the law was astounding. The ankle bracelets were easily hidden under a pair of pants, so it wasn't obvious who was and wasn't a werewolf.

Remus, too, got a bracelet. Moony was very happy with this new development - he had packmates, open air to run around in, and was given the body one a month. Life was perfect.

And of course, Rita did a long series of articles on the new law, how it affected werewolves, the effect of Occlumency on werewolves according to Remus, and really, as long as the were-children had those portkeys, couldn't they study at Hogwarts as well? It would make them full-fledged society members, and they wouldn't be able to hurt other students because they wouldn't even be at Hogwarts when they were wolves!

"...And just in case, why not make Occlumency a required course? After all, the average students' grade had suddenly increased a few years ago (right about the time Harry had forbidden teacher bias based on houses, as a matter of fact), so why not just teach them Occlumency? It helps fight against Imperio and Veela allure and was just another form of DADA, really," Door continued summarizing the article over breakfast.

Naturally, the actual article written by Ms. Skeeter was far more persuasive and well-written, but Door's translations meant that no one had to try to read the article.

"And, yeah, some toad-lady in pink is going on about how werewolves are lesser beings. But the Death Eaters are all mostly dead, and the ministry wards mean most people are inclined to disagree, so the article on her POV is short. Plus there's no facts to support her POV, which everyone notices." Door quickly added.

Harry smiled to himself. It would be interesting to have a were-wolf classmate, he decided, especially since there weren't too many were-wolf children. The law was, of course, going to be accepted. Bones, Dumbledore, and Black were going for it, and all of the light supporters as well - Prewett (now Weasely), Diggory, Longbottom, with quiet a lot of Neutral support as well - Davies, Greengrass - and as most of those against allowing werewolves into Hogwarts were underage (as the adults were mostly dead Death Eaters), the motion was quickly passed.

Really, these new ministry compulsion wards were working wonders. He was really glad of this - it was March, now, and he was going to Hogwarts in September; he really would like to have some cool friends. Sure, Remus was a werewolf, but he was a teacher, not a friend, and Tonks the metamorphmagus was really older than him, she was more of a sister than a friend, as was Fleur, who had a lot more Veela power than she liked to admit.

He didn't know anyone normal, did he?

Ah well.

"Hey Sirius... let's set up muggle tripwires in the bathroom, so if someone sits down, a bunch of pink paint will be poured all over them! And then practice my animagus form. And then you'll go to start kissing Rita, yuck..."

After all, he had to use his time with Sirius wisely - he was going to Hogwarts in September, and Sirius was going to start auror training at the same time, so they would both be very busy...

_line break _

Harry flew through the air. He had received his school letter, gone to Gringotts, found out that Albus Dumbledore had his key, Andromeda had put an illusion on Remus to make him seem older, and then Remus and Sirius went to Dumbledore, begging to take Harry to Diagon Alley. Dumbledore handed over the key.

Remus and Sirius portkeyed back to Gringotts, the goblins took Harry to his trust vault, and he almost fainted.

That was a LOT of gold. Except... He turned to Sirius and Remus.

"This has to last me all seven years. I can use my Mother's old things, right? Considering that you told me that on the last day of school, my Father burned all his school books?"

Door had insisted early on that money was like favors - either everyone owes each other and is owed a lot, so no one can keep track or really cares and they all help each other out (i.e., everyone is poor or everyone is rich - communism done wrong or right), or all the favors/money owed is kept track of, so you spend both carefully, wisely, and save them up as much as possible (normal capitalism).

Also, he really hated shopping. Sirius laughed.

"Sure thing, Prongslet. Lily-flower put her old books in Godric's Hollow, so maybe we'll get your wand - wait, you got yours already, sorry - your robes, your potions ingredients and DADA and Occlumency textbooks, but that's it. The rest of the list is exactly the same. And the only thing Lily wrote in her books were short explanations or some such, they'll only help. So. Grab a fair bit of money - in case you have to bribe someone - and let's go get your stuff!"

"But, because Hogwarts is a school, you're not going to have to bribe anyone, because there are good, responsible teachers in the school. Right, Harry?" Remus asked in the voice that may or may not be sarcasm - you never really knew. The goblin driving the cart back up to the lobby smirked.

"Of course, Remus. Sirius meant that I need to take enough money so I have some left over after I get my things, 'cause the third years can go to Hogsmede, and, you know, I might want to buy some candy off of the older kids." Harry's voice was far too innocent. Sirius laughed. The goblin's smile widened, scaring all three people into silence.

For the first time in ten years, Sirius and Remus went to Godric's Hollow. Harry didn't remember anything from the old house apart from a flash of green light.

Richard and Door simply raised an eyebrow at the destruction, while Andromeda lowered her head in thanks to James, Lily, and Harry.

Tonks and her father refused to come here.

There was a moment of silence, as Sirius and Remus tried - and failed - to hide their tears. Slowly, Sirius collected James' and Lily's wands, while Remus went to the library/dining room to collect Lily's old school books. They were stacked neatly by year, next to her trunk, which was covered in runes for safety. Lily had re-made the trunk in her sixth year, so now it had several compartments - one for clothes (that was basically a giant wardrobe), one for books (that was basically a bookshelf), one for knick-nacks, which was just an empty room where you can throw in your toothbrush and your broom-care-kit.

She was brilliant, and so careful, so unlike James... his trunk had burned down when he tried to change it; Lily managed to superimpose three different spaces on top of each other. Just opening the trunk led to the books, but opening the trunk while touching the tiny picture of the shirt drawn onto the front opened the wardrobe, and opening the trunk while pressing the circle-picture led to the open space.

While Door carefully took Lily's and James' wands away and gave them to Harry, Andromeda led Sirius out of the house and back to Door's manor so he could grieve. Then, Richard went upstairs, leading the way as Door and Harry followed slowly behind. Slowly, he pulled a trembling Remus off of Lily's trunk, and god, Remus was de-aged and in his early twenties, and he looked so young and lost.

Richard pulled the man into a crushing hug, before suddenly Tonks appeared. She hadn't yet completed her apparition license, so Andromeda had made her a portkey.

Nymphadora Ingress Tonks gently pulled Remus out of Richard's arms and led him out of the house.

"We have some time to find their graves, so let's go say goodbye."

And with that, Door, Richard, and Harry were left inside the house.

Harry swallowed. Richard sighed, put Lily's books and Harry's parents' wands into her trunk (he just opened it and threw everything in; Harry could sort it out later), and dragged it out of the house. The three began to walk home through the sewers.

On platform 9 and 3/4, seventh year Nymphadora Ingress Tonks kissed Remus goodbye, as did first year Harry Potter. As they got onto the Hogwarts express, Harry grinned.  
"Ready for mayhem and magic?"

"I've been causing and using both for six years, pipsqueak! Are _you_ ready?"


	14. Chapter 14

Tonks quickly explained that, as the trunks were taken to Hogwarts by house-elf, all that was needed was to put on their robes and stick the trunks in whatever compartment came first - that's what all the older years did, at any rate, and Harry followed suit. Then, as soon as the train moved, the game began.

"Ingress, we need to go from compartment to compartment, looking for your friends. In other words, I need you to point out the most arrogant, prejudiced pricks out to me, preferably those from politically important families. Make me invisible, and let's go!"

Arrogant prick #1: Marcus Flint, Slytherin. Son of a Dead Death Eater. Probably wanted to revenge his father.

Tonks turned herself into a Draco Malfoy lookalike (as seen from the platform) and asked to speak with Flint privately about an alliance. Flint's minions filed out of the compartment, and Tonks summoned Flint's wand, pointing her own wand to his throat.

Then Harry spoke.

"In exchange for Marcus Flint agreeing to the following contract, I, Dubhshlain, agree not to kill him while he is at Hogwarts. Marcus Flint will not judge people based on their political power, blood status, beauty, or Hogwarts House. Instead, he will do his best to be friends with people of all blood statuses, all levels of political power, both beautiful people and not, and those of every House throughout of Hogwarts years. Once Marcus Flint is out of Hogwarts, he is permitted to speak of this oath and to discriminate. Marcus Flint, do you accept?"

It didn't take long - Mr. Malfoy was looking particularly murderous.

"I accept."

Normally, someone would have to swear on their magic, or on their life, and then, if the oath isn't written down, it's null and void unless one of the participants isn't human.

Harry was part fae, and he was more connected to magic than anyone. That also meant that if he agreed to something, he had to do it, and that the iron wheels of the Hogwarts Express were making him nauseous. But this would only take an hour at most, if there were a lot of arrogant pricks, so he could do that.

He hoped.

Ingress-looking-like-Draco-Malfoy stepped out of the compartment, a disillusioned Harry Potter stepping after him/her. They went from compartment to compartment, getting Gryffindors who targeted Slytherins in their pranks (Twins, the lot of them, Ingress stupefied one, Harry the other, then Tonks took their wands, and woke one up at a time so they did the oaths one at a time).

The entire Slytherin quidditch team was cornered one at a time.

Ingress saved a third-year Hufflepuff who was protecting a bushy haired first year from a couple of Ravenclaws who were needling her for trying to know everything. There, Tonks transformed into herself, told the sixth-years, that hello, she was a Head Girl and wanted to speak to them privately. Once they were in a compartment, alone, Harry and Ingress made them agree to the contract.

When they took care of various upper years, Harry decided to add a new wrinkle to the game.

(After he turned off his fae powers for a good long time and took a nap, of course. And after that he drank some water, went to the bathroom, threw up, took some Pepper-up potion that Door had given him, and took another nap. Then, he began to add his new wrinkle.)

"Ingress... do me a favor and show me the laziest, worst students. One at a time. I think that the goody-two-shoes need some competition, and the teachers need more challenging essays."

The first one, a Gryffindor girl named Katie Bell, chatting with some of her friends. Tonks asked to speak to her in private about her boyfriend, a Hufflepuff... or Ravenclaw? She wasn't sure... At any rate, Katie's friends, giggling, left the compartment.

"Accio Katie's wand." Ingress pointed her wand at Katie's throat.

"In exchange for Katie Bell agreeing to the following contract, I, Dubhshlain, agree not to kill her while she is at Hogwarts. Katie Bell will not judge people based on their political power, blood status, beauty, or Hogwarts House while within Hogwarts. Furthermore, she will do her utmost best to get at least an EE in every class she is taking, with an O in at least two classes. Katie will complete all of the homework given to her by Hogwarts teachers. She will visit the DADA training room for her year three times a week and do her utmost to get as high on the scoreboard as possible without harming herself or loosing more than two hours of sleep every night. Katie Bell... do you agree to the contract?"

At Ingress's sharp grin and fangs (and the wand stuck to her throat), Katie agreed.

Harry and Tonks went to hunt down the other lazy students.

Oh, yes, this was too much fun. The teachers will be completely overwhelmed with the sudden amount of more homework, the students will be distracted by the sudden pressure to do well, and Harry will have free reign over Hogwarts!

It was really funny how there were more lazy kids than arrogant pricks. Then, Tonks quickly visited the twins again, because even though they weren't lazy, they were failing half their classes due to some joke-shop dream.

They could open their jokeshop, Ingress decided, she liked that. But no one should cause their parents so much grief, so now they had to get at least an EE in all their classes, with Os in two.

That's when Harry walked in on an argument between a redheaded boy who looked remarkably like the twins, Draco Malfoy, and the bushy haired girl who was protected by the third year Hufflepuff.

Three, untrained, distracted kids, verses two focused people, one of whom was invisible and the other training to be an auror. The kids were stunned before they could blink.

Then Harry wrote out a long contract:

 _I, Dubhshlain, will not kill those who signed at the bottom of this contract, for those people are agreeing to this contract by signing at the bottom. Those people will not judge people based on their political power, blood status, beauty, or Hogwarts House. Instead, they will do his best to be friends with people of all blood statuses, all levels of political power, both beautiful people and not, and those of every House throughout of Hogwarts years. Once those people are out of Hogwarts, they is permitted to speak of this contract and to discriminate._

 _Furthermore, those people who sign this contract agree to do her utmost best to get at least an EE in every class they are taking, with an O in at least two classes. They each will complete all of the homework given to them by Hogwarts teachers, and each person will complete the homework given them without plagiarism and with as little help from other students as possible. They will visit the DADA training room for their years three times a week and do their utmost to get as high on the scoreboard as possible without harming themselves or loosing more than two hours of sleep every night each._

Ingress woke up the girl first, pointing a wand to her throat and offering her a quill.

"Sign your full name." The girl wrote out in slightly shaky letters _Hermione Granger_. Then it was the red-head's turn, who signed _Ronald Weasely_ , and then Draco Malfoy, who too signed his name when faced with Tonks' wand. Ingress grinned.

"This contract will be in effect no matter what you do with the parchment, so I suggest you guys learn to get along - teach each other quidditch or something. And learn the words of the oath, so you know what to expect your magic to force you to do. Enjoy Hogwarts, kiddies!"

And for the sake of it, Tonks added a compulsion charm on all three - whenever they were on the Hogwarts express, they would be as honest with each other as possible. Then she stepped out of the compartment and locked the door with several different charms, in case one of the kids knew Alohamora.

Those kids still had several long hours to learn to get along. They'd either end up best friends or worst enemies.

Ingress sniggered as she and Harry moved on to their next prey - a pair of giggling first year girls who were talking about getting into Gryffindors where all the brave boys were. Those just happened to sign the same contract, as did a shivering, slightly pudgy, first year boy who was looking for his toad. Just because he looked like he would really need the DA practice, and he probably would be content with an Acceptable, and that was no good. He, like everyone else, needed to push himself.

And it was just really fun to watch people quiver in fear of a bright red haired, red eyed, fanged Ingress, who decided she liked this form. Especially with it's coal-black skin. Everyone thought she was a demon.

Harry totally approved.

Next? One Susan Bones, who was definitely going to be politically oriented. And her friend Hannah Abbot, because why not?

"Hermione Granger!"

Ah! A signer of a contract, the Hat thought, rummaging through the girl's memories. Those two boys she had argued with made her want to be the best... ambitious. And a survivalist. And currently, very angry.

 _PUT ME IN SLYTHERIN! THOSE BASTARDS WHO THINK I'M LESSER THAN THEM I'LL SHOW THEM ALL THAT I'M BETTER, THAT I'M THE BEST THEY'VE EVER SEEN!_

Well. What precisely did Draco Malfoy tell the girl about that house? Now that the population had increased since Werewolves were allowed to come the year before, there were more half-bloods in Slytherin, but those students, even with the wards, still refused to associate with muggleborns and werewolves. This _would_ show them, the girl was right.

 _Stupefy to make them sleep, Expelliarmus to take their wands, Protego for a shield._ The Hat hissed into her ear, just in case the Slytherins tried something, and the girl automatically memorized the spells. Yes, she was a fast learner, she would do well in...

"SLYTHERIN!" Hermione marched over to the Slytherin table, snarling and angry as no one clapped. She sat down, looked around with a straight back and crackling hair.

"I'll either break you, or rule you." Hermione was blunt. But then again, subtly was not the strong point of an eleven year old, and she was angry, and Draco Malfoy had taught her the threat not half an hour before, when he was explaining house prejudices.

Then, as the Slytherins either sneered or looked cautious, Mcgonnagall read name. Everyone still glared at Hermione, and she glared right back, until they focused back on the sorting as

"Neville Longbottom!" was called up.

Well, the Hat thought, with that contract, he needed a house that would help him study. Gryffindor was out - they'd bully him for being weak in their eyes, and while he'd eventually overcome it, that wouldn't improve his grades, which he needed to do well in. Ravenclaw would only push him down for his lack of attention to studies, and the Slytherins were ruthless.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Draco Malfoy!"

The Hat sat on his head, rummaging around. Well, his contract was the same as Longbottom's and Granger's and Bones' and Abbot's and a lot of other students' contracts... the best way to fulfill the contract without earning Lucius' ire was...

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Harry Potter!"

As the boy walked up to the stool to sit down, Dumbledore tried to figure out where he'd be. He wasn't raised by Petunia Evans-Dursely, that much was evident. And really, he should have suspected. Remus and Sirius were so insistent that they didn't need another teacher or anyone at all to accompany the boy to Diagon Alley. Mrs. Figg had never contacted him about about the Dursleys suddenly gaining a nephew.

Really, he wasn't sure why he thought that Remus wouldn't look for Harry Potter, even after Dumbledore told him that he was safe. But was the boy raised by Remus? If that was the case, then he would need a babysitter for the full moon... So who had Remus trusted before Sirius came along?

It wasn't Lily's sister - Petunia completely discouraged long hair in boys. Well, the blood wards were a lost cause at this point. Dumbledore looked back at Harry.

When he was young, he looked like a little James with Lily's eyes, but now he looked like a mixture of the parents. Probably due to his hair worn the way Lily had worn it, and the glasses accentuation Lily's cheekbones.

He was very pale...

And what was taking the hat so long?

 _Harry Potter is a fairly ambitious young man, and very loyal as well. But Dubhshlain, who is your other side, is very reckless, extremely cunning, and his only ambition is adrenaline and getting rid of baseless hatred. But there is no chivalry, no bravery - that recklessness isn't quiet being brave. And while Harry Potter is very, very, loyal to his family, the fae are only loyal to their chosen King, their mate and their children. You are unmarried, haven't a king or children._

 _Harry Potter sent the contracts to the teachers because Ingress was sad. Dubhshlain sent the contracts because the teachers were biased, and he didn't care for going through the legal applications- this was quicker, easier, more fun, and confused all the students and all the teachers._

 _Child, you are a mixture of Hufflepuff and Slytherin!_

Ingress is in Hufflepuff, Harry argued, put me with her.

 _Ingress won't be here next year, and besides, I can't sort people based on where their friends are!_

But I want to be with Ingress out of my loyalty to her - doesn't that make me Hufflepuff?

 _No, that is Slytherin logic! You know full well that Ingress will love you no matter which house you go to! Why can't I talk to Dubhshlain!_

Oh, the train had Iron. I let him cause havoc with Ingress for a bit, so now he's sick and will recover in a bit. D'you want to sort me last? By the time that you sort everyone else, Dubhshlain will be well enough to make his opinion known.

 _Oh, very well._

"I'm sorry, but this child is torn between Hufflepuff and Slytherin, and I will sort him last, after the rest of the first years, when he has a more settled mind. Next!"

Harry Potter went back into line, grinning at the teachers' shocked expressions. Yep. Gryffindor was not even an option. He was loyal to his friends, he valued human life. He wasn't noble or chivalrous or brave. He was reckless - he didn't do things despite danger, he did things because of it. And also, he was wild, unpredictable, immovable, had ambitions and kinda liked quietly manipulating people.

Slytherpuff? Was that it?

Harry grinned to himself, and began to watch the rest of the sorting.

Severus Snape pulled out his Occlumency shield and began to analyze his subject: Harry Potter. The occlumency would stop his emotions from clouding his logical conclusions.

Alright. He wasn't surprised by the Hat's outcome. That wasn't hidden surprise, he honestly wasn't surprised. But there wasn't any arrogance. Ergo, he simply didn't know that this hasn't happened before. He thought that every so often, there was a confused mind.

He wasn't surprised by the choice of houses, either. This was boy of loyalty and of semi-loose morals. Dangerous. His eyes flickered over to a table... he knew Nymphadora Tonks, auror in training. The girl had been a klutz for a little while, but after she stopped randomly changing her height and weight and body shape, she was more graceful. Not graceful, just... less clumsy than before.

So, she knew Harry Potter... Oh, he was twirling his wand. Clearly, he knew how to use it. He was smirking at... the laziest, least competent students in the entire school, and the most arrogant pricks there were. Cormac - a Gryffindor, second year - and Zacharia - Hufflepuff, third year - and Marcus Flint - Slytherin, fourth year.

Hhm. It wasn't a friendly smirk. He was already guilty of something, already plotting. But those weren't the dark eyes of power-lust. According to his passive legilimency, Mr. Potter felt mischievous, but also... righteous. As if he had rightened some wrong, and fixed something.

And he was happy, but that was about spending time with his sister.

Sister? Why would this boy refer to Nymphadora Tonks as his sister, and then call her by her middle name? He would need to do some active legilimency for that, with some searching through memories to find the right ones.

He was powerful, pro-active, and had an aurar-in-training backing him up. Severus Snape, hating James Potter even more than before for taking Lily away from him, decided to give Harry hell. But because he was Lily's son, he would also get help if he asked for it.

Ergo, make sure the stupid boy never asked for help from him.

Sprout looked around the room happily. She hadn't expected Longbottom, but really, he looked like he'd fit in well with that house. He was already adopted by Bones. Then everything went wrong as she looked for the friendships already budding around the Hall.

Why was the Youngest Weasely Boy (Gryffindor, of COURSE) nodding to a Malfoy?

Why was said Malfoy in Ravenclaw?

And then, they nodded to a Muggleborn Slytherin. And Potter smirked at all this. So it was orchestrated by Potter. She wasn't sure what 'it' was, but the dear boy looked mischievous.

She had expected him to be Gryffindor.

But then he was split between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Imagine the Harry Potter in her house! She already bragged about an aurar-in-training and the best seeker she's seen in years. My, my wasn't glory going to Hufflepuff for once? After all, Slytherin had Merlin, Gryffindor had Dumbledore, Ravenclaw had just about every inventor ever, and there was Harry Potter under the hat again!

 _Dubhshail?_

Hat. You do understand that we're not schizophrenic? I'm not a different personality.

 _Well, Harry certainly thinks you are._

Yes. But we're more like Remus and Moony - same people, same personality. To me, Ingress is, too, a sister. It's just that I don't have the implied loyalty. To me, Ingress is someone I can trust. If she asks me for help, I may or may not help her - I probably will. But... friend, ally, sister, brother, it's all the same. Door and Richard and everyone else. Just as Moony's pack is different from Remus' family, so it is here. Moony is loyal to Remus' family because they are Remus' family. And just as Remus will find someone that will be both Pack and Family, so I, too, will find someone who will be both Harry's wife and my mate.

 _That is a little complicated. You're eleven._

Yes. That's why, to me, there is no thought in those words. I am too young. I don't want a mate, nor need one. If I ever want one, I'll find one. Now, put me where I will cause the most Havoc.

 _Well, Slytherin will cause the most havoc. However, Ms. Granger is in Slytherin already, causing havoc. Nothing can cause havoc in Ravenclaw except a completely illogical person, and you have logic, so you can't go to Ravenclaw if your goal is havoc. Nothing causes havoc in Gryffindor like one of their own being friends with a Slytherin and/or a Ravenclaw, though Hufflepuff is accepted a little more. However, the youngest Weasely is friends with a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw, so that's covered. As for Hufflepuff... I'm not sure what causes fiascos in Hufflepuff house. Your sister hasn't managed to label herself as a wierdo in Hufflepuff. So, are you up to the challenge?_

Do it. 

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Dubhshlain glanced around.  
Harry glanced around.

 _Hufflepuff_ , they thought in satisfaction, _has a nice ring to it._

And then Harry went and shocked everyone by sitting next to the frightening, aurar-in-training seventh-year Tonks. The Hufflepuffs shrugged and continued eating.

The teachers shrugged, but Dumbledore frowned. How was a Hufflepuff supposed to be a hero?


	15. Chapter 15

The feast was delicious.

Harry ate very, very little - everything had salt, and his fae powers had been called up rather recently. He needed to give them - it? - time to settle before he was all right with eating salt and going near iron.

Ingress' hair had faded into a minty green that clashed terrifically with her bright yellow and black tie. She was laughing at something, gesturing wildly to the tables. They had only forced the 'friendship' contract on the bullies, so it was interesting to see those who normally weren't bullies explaining to the first years that "House before family and friends and blood" even as the firsties argued back that they had made friends on the train.

It was even more funny to see the usual bullies trying to stay out of it. After all, all the new rooms helped foster inter-house friendships, but those were weak, and the quidditch and house-cup competitions often made inter-house friendships fade quite quickly.

According to Ingress, who heard it from the previous Head Girl, those rooms lowered the bullying-and-fighting levels remarkably, but friendships existed only in those rooms.

For example, a Claw and a Gryff were friends only in the pool-room, and ignored each other everywhere else, as they were both on separate quidditch teams.

But it was the entering Feast; he could worry about changing everything even more than his parents and friends did later. As of now, he just wanted to sleep. It took a lot of power to make a contract, and he had made far too many.

Tomorrow was going to be hell.

Professor Quirinus Quirrel looked over at the Great Hall at his new students. He had taught Muggle Studies before, but to be honest, the Wizengamot had not approved of his telling students that both Muggles and Magic-users were human beings, both Homo Sapiens, and the DNA difference between the two was almost invisible.

He had said that, sure, the wizards had magic.

Well, in 1945, Muggles had destroyed two cities in an instant, and people were still feeling the Radioactive residue. It takes a while to say Avada Kedavra, he said, but muggle guns can kill dozens and dozens of wizards in an instant. Machine guns, that is.

But still. And then he had explained that Muggles had a lot more common sense - that in their world, every single person had a trial, and at the trial, everyone had to swear that they would answer each question with the Truth, the full Truth, and nothing but the Truth.

After several years of teaching this, the Board of Governors kicked him out.

So he traveled a bit. He had gone to Albania, seen a dark forest.

Seen Lord Voldemort.

It was Voldemort that enlightened him to the truth. That sure, muggles could destroy a city. But it took several muggles to do so, and a lot of fancy equipment. But wizards... they could do anything from age eleven. With a wand, any wizard could go to any muggle city and set it on fire.

Wizards had innate power that muggles didn't.

Muggleborns, or those with muggle roots, could eventually rid themselves of the filth in their blood by only marrying wizards... for centuries. Wizards as pure as possible. Then, after they had left their muggle roots completely behind, then they could be accepted. But not yet. First, they had to be taught that they were better, taught to see the truth... taught to aim to be as pure as possible.

Or be killed. It was very simple.

And then, his Lord had given him a mission - steal the Philosopher's Stone. So, he Imperioed some muggle, and sent them into Gringotts. Oh, the goblins caught them, but the security breach was enough to move the Stone to Hogwarts.

How... charming. He would get the stone, posing as a teacher. After all, he quiet liked teaching. The DADA position was open. He could do that. All he had to do now was get to the third floor and beyond.

Though his Lord wished to accompany him, he couldn't. His Lord had other business, so he trusted Quirrell - trusted him! - to get the Stone.

And he would not fail his Master, no matter who stood in his way.

^^^LineBreak^^^

"Alright, mudblood. What are you doing in the Purest House of Hogwarts?" The question was directed at Hermione, who bared her teeth in response.

She had spent the entire summer reading textbooks and other books about the world she had entered, and she had a fairly good idea about prejudice. And she had also read some basic defense books. But right now, everything fell away, except her anger, her right to be here, and the three spells the hat whispered in her ear. She had read about them before, about the wand movement, and now she knew how the pronounce the spells.

She also loved Shakespeare, especially his insults.

"The Hat was enchanted by all Four Founders. All Four put their opinions and judgments into the Hat. Are you denying that your own Founder didn't want me here, you lily-liver'd, in-gracious, inbred cad?"

The tall fourth year, budding leader, was smart. He only insulted Mudbloods inside his own house, and was polite to everyone else - his excuse? "It gets them to do my homework, and I'll have favors to call in later in life."

It also made Tonks and Harry miss him when forcing people into contracts.

The man-ling stood up slowly, languidly, twirling his wand between his fingers as he looked Hermione up and down. She was small. She was probably about average power, but she was angry - and, because his house would never accept her, it was better to break her now before she grew up into a threat and was capable of acting on her anger.

He had to punish her, anyway, had to take charge in order to seem pro-active and a good, capable leader to the other Slytherins. But he would not bow to anger.

"Now, little firstie, little muggle girl, _what_ did you call me?" His voice was soft. Better give her a chance to give in before striking; he needed to seen merciful and approachable to the others.

"I called you a lily-liver'd, in-gracious, inbred cad! Didn't you hear? Or did you not understand? I could explain it to you, if you want me to!" Hermione knew how this worked. She was the bushy-haired, buck-toothed little girl, and she was small and ugly and an easy target. After all, she had been bullied before. But this was Hogwarts, where she had to spend seven years, and she would not be bullied here.

"Go ahead, little firstie, tell everyone around you what you called me and why. I want everyone to understand that such words are not to be used when speaking to me, so go ahead, tell them what you said, explain why I will break you." He was more in a dueling position now, gently pointing the wand at the girl's torso, and she carefully copied his position. Not well, not as firmly, as a matter of fact, her position was downright stupid. But she tried, she saw it and she copied it. Yes, she was a fast learner.

Fast learners were two things: loyal minions or potential dangerous threats. She was dirty. She would never be a minion. So, eliminate the threat.

"Lily-liver'd because you are a coward, to attack me when you are in the Common Room, surrounded by allies and friends, instead of out in the open on equal ground, in-gracious because that was rude, uncalled for, and your insults have no class, inbred because surely no one sane would want to marry your ancestors so their had to be some inbreeding just to stay "pure", and a cad, because you are nothing but a gutted _fish._ "

At this point, all the Slytherins were pressed against the walls, not wanting to get in the way. Some had dropped onto couches and armchairs, and everyone who knew how was casting a protego so that the flying spells wouldn't hit them.

"Do you know how to duel, little dirty-blooded animal? You bow first... here, someone referee. No one interfere." The girl shifted in her shoes, making them less tight and easy to kick off.

A seventh year stood up.

"Bow! Straighten! Three...! Two...! One!"

He shot of a spell, but she stepped aside, and in one fluid motion, kicked into the air. As her right shoe flew up and at him, his eyes automatically raised to follow the motion, his wand lifting to blast it out of the air.

There was a click.

Everybody looked at the door leading out of the common room. It was half open, and they could hear her running.

Then someone spoke.  
"It's was a good plan. Had she known a few spells, you would have lost then, Terrance Higgs. Instead of running, the little muddy girl would have nailed you with a spell. And now, she's running and we're not chasing after her. It's a stalemate, Mr. Higgs. You had a stalemate with a firsty. You, a pure-blood, had a draw with a half-pint girl with muddy veins and dirty blood, and we're supposed to follow you? The girl had more potential."

Higgs opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn't see who spoke - someone far behind the crowd of people. A female voice - it could be anyone from third to seventh year. And it was too late. People were wandering away, going up into the dorms.

Higgs growled. He would skewer that little girl who called him a cad. And then skewer whoever had said that. He hadn't spent four years trying to rule Slytherin for the power he gained to be lost so easily.

^^^Line Break^^^

Hermione ran.

That boy had almost taken her apart - thank god that her shoes had untied themselves at the feast. But that was too close. She needed to get better, she needed to get better yesterday.

Hermione was the best at schoolwork - it was how she proved to everyone that she was better; that they could knock her down but she was the best at working and where it mattered. The dedication meant that she stayed up two nights every week, Tuesday and Saturday nights, studying. Just in case. She knew she could handle the lack of sleep - she'd been handling it since she was six.

Hermione glanced at a nearby map and turned to walk to the Training Rooms.

She would show them, the girl vowed to herself.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Blaise Zabini shivered in bed, gripping his knife under his pillow, reviewing the Family Rules.

 _To be Family, you must kill before turning seventeen, when childhood ends._

 _You are not Family until you kill._

 _If you do are not Family, you are a Threat to the Family. Threats are eliminated._

 _Your only loyalty is to Family - you are Neutral in all other situations._

The young boy closed his eyes, remembering his Nonna's gifts to him-

Seven knives.

Three vials of poison.

Two wands - on of his own, one Family wand that had agreed to also work for him.

His body - after all, she had given birth to him.

 _"Make them all count, Little Boy,"_ She had whispered (She'd call him Son when he killed another), _"And remember: Everyone is a target, an ally and an enemy."_

His mother was the Black Widow, and Blaise Zabini wondered whose blood he would be forced to spill, and then whose blood his mother had spilled.

He hated the Mafia, the Family Business, and wanted nothing more than to be part of it.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Angelina Johnson looked sadly at the youngest Weasely boy in front of her. She liked Fred and George, and had gotten along well with Charlie. Usually, the twins and Oliver Wood would explain to the First Years what it meant to be Gryffindor.

Now she had to do it - her Captain and the Beaters were hissing in the corner of the room, something about "Fouls", "Brooms", "Killing is illegal, Oliver!", and "We need another Seeker!"

She had seen the youngest nod at a Raven boy and a Slytherin girl.

"You don't get it," she said again. "The Claws all turn out to be nerds, and sure, you can be friends, but it's hard when all they do is study. Puffs are... well... puffs. They just are. But Slytherins; you can't trust them. They steal your secrets and it's impossible to be friends with them!"

"THEY'RE MY FRIENDS! Hermione's cool, and so's Draco, yeah, his parents are gits, but so WHAT! My mum's mental, too! And Hermione says Merlin was a Slytherin, and, and, you can't tell me not to be friends! I like them!"

Angelina swallowed, looking at the tears brimming in the boy's eyes.

"They'll disappoint you and you'll all grow apart. Just... trust me."

"NO! You're a meanie and you're trying to take away my friends! I HATE YOU!"

Ronald Weasely ran to his dormitory.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Neville decided that Hogwarts was the best thing that ever happened. Hufflepuff house was great! The older years were really nice, ruffling everyone's hair and smiling.

"Alright! Wotcher, y'all. Now: Puffs stick together; so go to houses in li'l groups. Also, Puffs tend to be bullied, so you might want to memorize some pretty cool insults. Just in case. Lastly: Y'all, who can do Progeto, raise your hands... lets' see."

"Wotcher, Susan Bones! Good for you! Harry, yeah yeah, put down your hand. You can do everything. Hhm. Only Susan? Right. Once you can do Protego, you can go to bed."

And the older years descended on the younger years, treating them like new younger siblings while the second years went to bed. Harry Potter (!) and Susan Bones demonstrated their Protegos and went to sleep within the first minute.

Slowly, the students learned and went to bed. And Neville couldn't do it.

"Like this..."

"Hold your wand tighter - no, looser."

"Less of a swish..."

"Try again!"

Suggestions swirled around his years, and Neville could have cried. Then -

"Hold it. Are you sure that's your wand?"

"What? It's my dad's!"

There was a long moment of silence, and then the Seventh-Year Auror-in-Training who taught them Protego smiled and stepped forward. The students parted for her like the Red Sea.

"Neville Longbottom. I'm Tonks, and I'll write to your Grandmother, Dowager Longbottom, about your situation. You'll get your own wand within the week, don't worry. You'll floo to Diagon Alley and get your wand, and if your Granny doesn't take you, then I will. Now... Bed!"

Neville went up to bed, deciding that wand-problems or not, Hufflepuff was the best. Ever.

^^^LineBreak^^^

The teachers gathered in a classroom to discuss the new students.

"Of course the Weasely boy went to Gryffindor! What did everyone expect?" Asked Minerva McGonagall with a raised eyebrow. Of course Minerva was talking about her student.

"Well, the Granger-girl in Slytherin -a muggleborn no less - why, she looked like a bookworm; quoting _Hogwarts: A History_ like that. I had her pegged for Ravenclaw!" Yes, Professor Sprout's comments were so illuminating.

Severus Snape was in a foul mood.

He had expected Malfoy in Slytherin; that way he had an easily-controlled way into the house. Instead, he had to keep some muggle-born girl safe! And Terrence Higgs was gathering control far quicker than he expected, and they couldn't half that - they needed a leader strong enough to stand against the Dark Lord for when he came again.

Terrence Higgs was NOT that person.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Well, what did you all think of young Harry?"

"We've only seen him at the feast!" Yes, thought Severus, Sprout's contribution was _ever_ so helpful.

"Well, Slytherin and Hufflepuff? He's cunning and ambitious and Hardworking and deeply loyal... but not brave? It's strange, it's as if he grew up in a place where bravery just doesn't matter." And Minerva, thought Severus, thought only of her house.

"He seems sharp and focused." Of course he does, Severus thought at Quirrell acidly. Everyone with a bit of sense looks focused.

"Yes, thank you... you may all go." Dumbledore's eyes still twinkled, and when everyone left, they focused on Severus, asking him to speak.

"He walks like he's a war veteran. He's aware of the whole room. When the Hat was on his head, he magic spread out just a bit, tasting the room. Checking it. Just a bit, though. He's aware and alert and a planner. He judged people quickly, but instead of sweeping his eyes over the room, he focused on certain people and then on others. He's thinking of something that needs a lot of outside help, and those things are usually long-term. He'll defeat the Dark Lord not because the Lord's a threat, but because the Lord is an obstacle in Potter's plans. But he can do it. He's powerful, and his magic is more wild than anything I've ever seen."

"Thank you for your contribution, dear boy."

Severus sneered at the endearment, and swept away. Potter excluded power so casually. It was terrifying.

^^^LineBreak^^

Melinda Bredniv and Draco Malfoy stared at each other.

New Ravenclaws.

Chesnut pixie cut and green eyes; slicked blonde hair and grey eyes.

Werewolf and little education. Pureblood and aristocrat.

Both taught to hate each other.

Only Draco Malfoy was under contract. Only he was forced to give her a chance.

"My name is Draco Malfoy. What's your name?" His voice was cold, but not sneering, and he offered her his hand.

She spat at his shoes, knocked his hand away, and snapped.

"None of you business! I know all about you, my mother told me, you racist pigs! Leave me alone!" And Melinda Bredniv ran to her bed, crying.


	16. Chapter 16

At 5:30 AM, Hermione Granger entered the Common Room of her house. Slytherin.

Her hair was wild, standing up, with small trickles of lightning flashing through it every few minutes. Her eyes were wide, and she was breathing heavily, holding her wand and a shoe.

Anywhere else, she would have been a robe-wearing street urchin with one shoe. But this was Hogwarts, and had people been awake, all they would have seen was the magic obviously on her, crackling around her.

The air nearby smelled - tasted - like ozone. Hermione marched up the stairs to her dorm, pulled out each and every one of her schoolbooks, and put them in her backpack. She also found her other shoe and put both shoes one, tying them properly. Then she marched to the library, finding books on basic wards. In the next hour and a half, she would read as much as possible, then ward her bed, trunk, and back pack.

The bed and trunk where easy - she just connected them to a bucket of magic glue - it covered as much area as possible and dried almost immediately to cement. In other words, if anyone other than her touched the bed or trunk, they'd be covered with cement.

The backpack... how do you ward a moving object? Hermione didn't know.

She just hoped no one tried to destroy it or something. Then, at 6:59 precisely, Hermione walked out of the common room and to breakfast.

She received a shock. She had expected the Great Hall to be empty. Who was insane enough to be up this early? (She had stayed up the whole night; it didn't count). Instead, at the Hufflepuff table, was a raven-haired boy with a pony-tail, and a seventh year with lemony spikes and gleaming pink(!) eyes.

The boy nodded at her, then at the seventh-year, and then walked over to talk to her.

A Slytherin. Wait, that didn't make sense. She needed more sleep. A lot more sleep. Hermione tried to rephrase that thought.

She was a SLYTHERIN. He was HUFFLEPUFF. Every book she read had explained that those two did NOT interact.

Then she recognized the boy - Harry Potter, the only who was split between the houses. He went and sat down across from her.

"I'm Harry."

"Hermione."

"Pleasure. Hermione, what do you think Hogwarts needs more of?"

"Clocks. There was one or two, but they need more, preferably one in every hallway. I have my own personal watch, but we really need more. And some hallways are full of paintings, while others have one or two. It's most... confusing."

"Excellent."

And the boy left, whistling. Hhm. Well, he was not her problem. Hermione concentrated on food. Oh! Scones! Thank god.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Running to the Astronomy Tower (thank you Ingress for the instructions) Harry knelt at the top of the tallest room in the tallest tower.

What very few people realized was that Hogwarts was sentient. She just preferred to sleep... but now, she was wide awake, when talking students didn't give her a headache and she could watch the sunrise.

 _Hail, Hogwarts. I am Dubhshlain. Have you heard your Student's request?_

Yea. I did.

 _Sorting Hat?_

Yea. On some level, we art the same. I have heard the request, and it pleased me. For times and times, my apprentices have pleaded for pleasantries. Simpler studies or such. This young one, mayhap, knows to think. I shall move my ways and ups and downs. Within three sundowns, the portraits will be spread equally and everywhere between me.

But these clocks... will thee supply them?

 _Um. Yes, I'll make sure that there are clocks... if I just hang them up randomly, will you make sure they're spread equally around you?_

Yea. Thy legs must fly - your soul-sister misses you. The masters come to give schedules to the apprentices.

Harry Potter ran to the Great Hall, where Ingress sighed in relief.

"Watcher, Harry. What did you just do? Sprout's been wondering where you are! Everyone's eating by now, and she gave me your schedule to give to you. Here, by the way."

Harry glanced at the paper, nodding and stuffing it into his bag with his books.

"Thanks. I was talking to Hogwarts. Don't ask. So, anything new?"

"Yeah. Neville's gran answered to me and to him. He's getting his new wand. Hey, look at that!"

 _That_ turned out to be a girl - werewolf, Dubhshain supplied - and Draco Malfoy arguing passionately about... nothing at all. They were just throwing insults at each other.

"Mangy wolf!"

"Prissy Pureblood!"

"Uneducated Peasant!"

"Oi! What'cha want with Draco?" And that was Ronald, stepping into the discussion.

"You flee-bitten pancake! Why are you arguing with my friend?" Hermione stepped in, making the air around them taste sharply like ozone. Melinda stepped back.

"You're _defending_ him? But he's - he's -"

"A friend!"

"A racist pureblood!"

"No, he isn't! Has he passed any laws? NO! His DAD did! Don't throw the sins of the father onto the son! Besides, if you're judging by his blood, then you're a racist coward who can't see past her own stupid, short-sighted beliefs and isn't brave enough to see otherwise! You're NOTHING!"

And with that, Hermione turned around and dragged Draco and Ron to the Ravenclaw table to sit and eat.

^^^LineBreak^^^

A week later, two things happened:

First, clocks arrived from Door and Richard. Suddenly, there were a lot fewer people who were late to class.

Secondly...

In Diagon Ally there was a bank. Gringotts, to be precise. And it was run by goblins.

In the bank, two things happened. One, the bank received two long essays. One of the essays explained what a credit card was and how it was used in the Muggle World and how they could introduce it to the wizarding world... the full wizarding world. Not just Britain, but the enclave in France and Belgium and Switzerland as well. Gringotts made note of it.

The second essay explained the stock market, and the difference between capitalism and communism and what it meant to buy a business or to share stocks. And how these things worked in the Muggle World.

This essay set Gringotts whispering and wondering, and they began trying to use these ideas.

Meanwhile, Ted Tonks smirked. For the last several years, very little actual progress had been made. Old laws were discussed... but progress halted. So instead of changing politics, Mr. Tonks decided to play with economics. Lets see how these things worked when old purebloods were able to invest in the Muggle world! HA!

Over the last week, he had...

He had already sold a few pens to Flourish & Bolts - and told them about Staples.

Shown Madam Malkin and a few other stores some fashion magazines. And told them about Victoria's Secret.

Introduced simple Beer and grape juice and apple juice to plenty of restaurants. And shown them red wine.

All three events had been shown - via Pensive - to the Daily Prophet reporters.

He really wanted to see how long this world lasted before it fell apart.

But meanwhile, Gringotts shuddered. Here was the second thing that happened: in a certain vault, a certain cup shuddered. Hufflepuff's cup shook as a black wisp pulled itself out of the golden figure and flew to join the larger part of its soul. Voldemort had suddenly gained some strength and sanity... but not enough to question why.

The wards shivered a bit, then began running off of the natural magic that people gave off.

^^^LineBreak^^^

"Calling all werewolves in order!" The student glanced around. There were maybe forty students in attendance to the WWW club - Weres and Witches and Wizards. Only weres joined.

That was the point though. The students gathered together to set a few things clear: there was a lot of hate towards them, but that doesn't mean they could ruffle some feathers. They could not afford to get the humans angry, not when things were settling down.

Also, learn Occlumency. Now.

Lastly, the most important: Date and Marry whomever you wish. Being a were-wolf was not genetic, so your children would not be wolves unless bitten. So it didn't matter - so long as the fellow treated you well, go ahead.

Melinda flushed, and Phagh-Raht turned to her.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I sort-a already argued with Draco Malfoy." Melinda looked at the ground, refusing to meet the alpha's eyes. Phagh-Raht breathed in and out, calming himself.

"I don't have time for petty rivalries. Apologize, and ignore him. Prove you're better by being better. Be the best you can be in as many classes as possible and do well in the training rooms and that's it. When you're better than him, then you have the right to argue. Now, relax and close your eyes. Focus on one thing: A shield. We gotta get your Occlumency in shape ASAP!"

From that day forward, Melinda studiously ignored Draco Malfoy. Draco ignored her right back.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Within the first week, Harry Potter was ranked with the fourth years. He was below average, but that didn't matter. He was in FOURTH YEAR in the training room, and far above average in his other classes. Too far ahead for the comfort of any classes.

Combined with his faint scar... well, Dumbledore worried. Had the backlash of Tom's Avada Kedavra affected Harry Potter? Perhaps transferred some of Tom's powers over to him...

But then again, Hermione Granger was in second year on the scoreboard by the end of the week. On the other hand, scans revealed that she got an average of five hours of sleep a week, and Harry Potter had gotten a good eight hours every night.

However, she was also very hard ahead of her year-mates. Dumbledore shook off his internal musings and glanced at the scoreboard again.

Draco and Ronald were fighting with each other for third spot, both in school and training. Oddly enough, Neville Longbottom, after getting his wand, was firmly in fourth (fifth?) place, with the rest of the students changing position with every bout of training.

Or not so oddly - the paintings reported that those four students (Hermione, Draco, Ronald, and Neville) studied together and were fast friends. It was an odd friendship, with one member from each house.

But rather frighteningly, Harry Potter was not part of this group friends - or any group of friends, for that matter. He seemed to be spending time with dear Nymphadora, or writing letters home.

It was rather sad, that such a bright young man was so lonely... or maybe, this was more proof of Tom affecting Harry?

^^^LineBreak^^^

Every morning, Dubshlain asked the same question:

 _Hogwarts, who needs my help the most?_

This morning, Hogwarts answered with a name, not a My Apprentices can make their own mistakes. Today, Hogwarts hesitated, and then, whispered quietly into Harry's ear:

Blaise Zabini. 

Another question that was asked each morning: _Who is the biggest threat to the students?_

Professor Quirinius Quirrell, Hogwarts answered, where before she had hissed angrily that she could take care of her apprentices.

 _Explain both problems?_

Zabini needs to kill someone. Quirrell wishes to gain the Philosopher's Stone and would kill people to get it. As a matter of fact, he plans to hold you hostage and demand Dumbledore hand it over or he slits your throat.

 _Well, Zabini killing him would certainly solve both problems._

Yea; that death at the hands of the boy would save both worlds. But I suggest waiting until Hallowe'en, or Samhaim. The old gods like sacrifices at that time.

And so Harry Potter smiled thinly.

^^^LineBreak^^^

"Zabini!" Harry called out, grabbing Blaise and pulling him into a classroom before the boy had time to blink. He was going to the library, as lunch was generally too loud for a boy used to quiet.

"P-Potter?" The Italian accent made his name sound _exotic_. It was irritating, Harry decided.

"Just Harry, please. Now, Zabini - "

"Blaise. If you're Harry, then I am Blaise, _no_?"

"Um. Alright? But listen: Dumbledore said that we can't go to the Third Floor Corridor. Right? Why? Because he's keeping something there. Why on pain of death? Because it's trapped, so someone wants it. That means, when a big fat diversion walks into Hogwarts, the two of us gotta check out the third floor corridor to see who wants whatever it is that the Headmaster's hiding!"

... Blaise's thought process stopped for a bit. That made no sense. This whole thing was crazy and made no sense. But... well... Harry Potter looked very determined, and at the very least it gave him...

Well. A target, certainly. It gave him a target. Now, he had just one question.

"Sî. But why me?"

"Because you walk like you know how to kill, so your low score on the training scoreboard has to be just a tactic to get others to underestimate you. You're like me. You know how to fight and you're lonely. So, meet you at the third floor when a diversion comes!"

And Harry spun, running out the door. Blaise didn't speak to him until Halloween. But he kept his knives sharp and prayed for the gods to bless Harry Potter for giving him a target who wasn't an innocent child but a criminal.

^^^LineBreak^^^

"Troll! In the dungeons! Thought you ought to know..."  
The DADA professor fainted. Blaise looked up a caught Harry's eye.

Blaise had decided that, if the person was trained, he had better be trained too. He was now clawing for second place with Hermione Granger, both deep into second year. Harry Potter was on top... of the fourth years.

Now Neville, Ronald, and Draco were the next after Blaise and Hermione, all three switching places every time they trained (which was often), but never letting anyone get close. It wasn't even talent or power - it was plain old hard work.

Harry Potter stood up and slipped away from the Hufflepuffs in the rioting, and the two boys walked silently to the Third Floor corridor.

They hid in the shadows, wands pointed at the door. Blaise fingered his wand. It took a few minutes, during which point both children were silent as the grave.

But they weren't children. If anyone was looking at them, they would not have seen children. They may have seen predators - eyes bright, muscles tense, teeth bared. Ready to pounce.

Or, they may have seen soldiers - still and silent and alert, far too alert, waiting for orders and aiming their guns.

Someone may have seen automatons - they were stiff, unmoving, unblinking. Their positions, crouching, was all angles. Robots.

But no one would have said they were children.

A man jogged into view. Quirrell. His wand was out. The man paused, hesitating, then reached for the door.

Zabini didn't wait.

A knife flew and buried itself in the side of Quirrell's neck. Blaise ran over to the man, sliding another knife into his heart. Then, he pulled out a piece of parchment, dipped his quill into the blood, and wrote:

 _Dearest Family,_

 _I'm writing with the Blood of a man I've killed - Quirinus Quirrell._

 _-Blaise Zabini._

Zabini stuffed the parchment and quill and knives into his pocket, taking the time to clean the knives. Then, with a start, he turned around, to see Harry smiling.

"Do not worry. I shall not tell anyone except those who won't harm you or your family. You did a good job, Blaise - it was a quick death. Let's clear out?"

As the two boys disappeared, one to his common room and one to send his mother a letter, the body grew cold. After a little while, Severus Snape ran into the corridor, gasping in shock.

The DADA professor lay dead, and he had not even entered the corridor to see Dumbledore's traps.

^^^LineBreak^^^

The rest of the year passed simply and silently. Mad-Eye Moody was the new DADA teacher, and on Christmas, Harry Potter got a note about an invisibility cloak, and an actual cloak. Remus and Sirius sent him letters explaining that Dumbledore had the cloak and that he promised them both to give their godson that cloak for Christmas.

He also got a lot of amusing knickknacks, sweaters, and pens. Sweets. And he had sent Blaise a quill that was far to long and sharp, and far too easy to throw.

Ted Tonks, Andromeda, and Sirius visited Hogwarts. The made a Study Hall - a hallway where separate classrooms were made into libraries with books for one subject in particular.

And America had books like _Transfiguartion & Physics, Charms & Physics, Potions & Chemistry, Leglimency & Occlumency & Psychology, Herbology & Botany, Care of Magical Creatures & Biology, _... the list went on. So the different rooms had textbooks and textbooks, explaining Muggle sciences and Wizarding magic together.

Those classrooms became very popular, because when they explained quiet a lot of supposedly "unexplainable" phenomenons.

And thus, the rest of the year passed.

^^^LineBreak^^^

In Malfoy Manor, a diary shuddered, and its pages fell apart. Once the magic holding it together was gone, the diary was just a pack of fifty-year-old parchment. The soul piece flew to join its master.

As soon as the wards began sucking on only Malfoy, his magic drained. The man died in his sleep, at night, and Draco was inconsolable. Neville was the greatest help, and Draco spent the rest of the summer staying over at his friends' houses, one at a time.

It made the four of them closer to each other.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle J.R., Dark Lord and Ruler-of-Wizarding-Britain-To-Be, frowned. He had taken over Lockhart, and the man was... to put it simply, he was an idiot.

But his power levels had increased greatly. He was feeling better, better than he had since... since he had created his horcruxes.

Why?

 _What are you? Are you in my head? Oh, are you some lost soul, in need of help? Worry not! I, the Great Gilderoy, will help you with anything! After all, I got rid of a Banshee, and I..._

The incessant man chattered on to him. Voldemort reached out and shoved the soul out of the body unceremoniously. And just like that, Gilderoy Lockhart was dead.

The young body was his.

He was going to be a Hogwarts teacher. First thing first: While being a Hogwarts teacher, he needed to check on the political going-ons and such and the fastest ways to gain power.

After all, last time, it was easiest to gain power by being a Dark Lord. Now, however, he was immortal - perhaps he would gain power by being Minister of Magic? At any rate, he needed to catch up on the news.

Thinking quickly, Tom Riddle made Gilderoy Lockhart's body write a letter to Dumbledore, explaining that he had changed his mind - he would still be a teacher of DADA, but he would use a different book.

A good book. One that Tom Riddle had planned to use when teaching the students fifty years before... not that Dumbledore knew this.

Then, Mr. Lockhart summoned a Hogwarts Elf - being a teacher, he was able to simply ask for one. He requested a copy of every single Daily Prophet that had come out since Hallowe'en eleven years before. After all, Harry James Potter was now twelve.

Voldemort had a lot of research to do, about how the world had changed and why was he suddenly feeling so much better, so much more powerful... the Daily Prophet was just a starting point.

...

Why were they calling his nemesis the "Boy-Who-Lived"?

^^^LineBreak^^^

Door and Richard stared at the boy in front of them.

"...So then Blaise threw his knife, mafia style, like in the cinema, and Quirrell started falling, and Blaise just _pounces_ on him and pushes a knife into his heart! It was SO cool! And then he wrote something down and we both left, and that was it. I think Flamel has his stone back. But the best part is, Mad-Eye Moody taught us for the rest of the year! It was _epic._ He is the god of fighting! And..."

"Alright. Let me sum it up: You killed an evil teacher with your best friend who's a Mafia member and your next teacher is really great."

"Yes, Dad, but that's boring."

"Lovely. Um, your mother's pregnant."

"RICHARD! YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T TELL ANYONE!"

"Oi! Appoline and Fleur and Tonks and Remus and Andromeda and Ted found out last night; they were going to tell him anyway!"

"Richard Mayhew, you -"

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Harry broke in. It was best to distract his parents early. Apparently, they had gotten married, which in Below consisted of going to the blacksmith and getting matching rings. Their rings were dark, reddish gold with pale blue swirls. Really, it wasn't too big of a deal - they acted like they were married for years.

"We don't know yet." Door smiled happily.

"Ok. Hey, are you going to tell me how babies are made now?"

^^^LineBreak^^^

Blaise Zabini looked around the room happily.

His Famiglia - his _Family!_ \- was spread around the room, with people lounging on armchairs and couches, and getting champagne. Every few minutes, people would come up to welcome him and give a gift. So far, he was the youngest person in a century to have entered into the family. But he couldn't relax - he had half an hour left. It was almost time to tell his story.

"We welcome Blaise into the Zabini family. Come and tell of your first kill."

"My first target was the DADA teacher, Professor Quirrell. There is a curse on the school, no one can last more than a year of teaching. So I wanted to do it on the last day, after exams - I'd stay behind to ask a question, and that's it."

That wasn't it. Blaise had only thought of it on the way home, it make it look like he hadn't depended on Harry Potter.

"But then, after a week of school, Potter asked to speak with me - he told me that there was something hidden in the Third Floor Corridor, as I had written to you about. He told me that when a distraction was to go into Hogwarts, we were to go and defend the corridor."

Blaise took a breath. Some of his family looked unconcerned, others looked like they were taking notes. But each and every one of them was listening.

"On Samhaim, All Hallow's Eve, a troll wandered it. We went to the Third Floor. Quirrell walked into the corridor, his wand pointed at the door. I threw my knife into his neck, ran over and slid another into his heart. I wrote the Blood-Letter then and there, cleaned my knives, and forced Potter not to tell anyone that may harm me or my family. Then we ran."

Quick, succinct, to the point.

His mother smiled, walked up the podium, kissed his forehead, and slid a knife into his hands.

"I suggest that my son offer this Potter his services. After all, Blaise needs to get used to killing, and clearly this Potter has targets at disposal. Not to mention, he is heir to a large family - we can request payment."

Blaise grinned wolfishly. He had liked the feeling of blood in his hands - after all; it was in his Magic, in his Blood, in his nature and what he was raised to do. To get paid for it? How wonderful. Not to mention, he knew Harry Potter - the two were as close to being friends as Zabini was allowed to be.

This was absolutely wonderful.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry Potter grinned at Fleur Delacour. She was dressed in a skintight dark grey shirt, dark grey rights, a black mid-thigh skirt, and lace-up sandals. Her hair was in a tight bun, but a few strands escaped. She was stone-faced, standing in a dueling position - tense, about to pounce at him, her wand arm pulled into a fist at her side to punch him... but holding her wand, meaning that she could shoot a spell as well.

She was also taking stock of him.

The 'Leetle Boy' she knew had grown up well. He had shot up in height, his hair in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. His green eyes narrowed with his glasses charmed to stay on his face - it was too complex for her to get the glasses off his face in mid-fight. He was slightly crouched, poised to explode forwards and into her face - but it's an easy position to dodge from. His wand was strapped to his wrist. It was harder to aim that way, but it was hard enough to aim if someone was moving anyway. Her eyes were better, and her aim was slightly better.

Not to mention, she had gotten her Mother and Andromeda to change Beaxbatons the way they changed Hogwarts. There were no houses in her school, but the ice-skating rink and the pool were both popular, and the training rooms were a big hit. Flour, of course, was far ahead of her fellows. The French and the British had both gotten an increase in Aurors.

"Three... Two... One... _Fight_!" Remus jumped out of the rink, Moony howling for him to run, run, run, run, run. This was a battle between Fae. Moony informed him that he needed to go NOW.

When Remus was far away enough, he glanced behind him. There was dust and flashes of light and screams and spells and blood already spattered the floor around the rink. Remus walked out of the room. He'd come in later, to see what was left of them. In the meantime, he was entering Auror school with Tonks. Any questions about his age would be answered with a scowl and the mention of Sirius' prankster ways.

And right now, he was taking Nymphadora Ingress Tonks on a date. That was more important than the potential death of one of his students at the hands of the other.

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Voldemort blinked slowly, putting down the Daily Prophet.

First of all, half way through these eleven years everything changes. There was no cause. But suddenly, he didn't have to sift though propaganda. Every question had a page explaining every answer with quotes.

Why? It certainly wouldn't help him if he started pushing towards hate. Not to mention, this Ted Tonks was too big of a figure - if he were killed, there wouldn't be fear, there would be indication. The man would be martyred.

Also, Werewolves were now at Hogwarts, and the Prophet explained how werewolf attacks had lessened greatly since they had gotten these portkeys that send them to some forest. Or maybe it was just that werewolves now learned Occlumency in Hogwarts... twice as much as regular students. (Regular students learning Occlumency?) And the Prophet had written that these policies had spilt over to France.

How strange. It seamed that in order to gain power, he simply had to be moderate. Gain both sides, not radicalize a small minority to run over the entire country.

Alright, he could do that. He was manipulative, and knew the atmosphere. He'd teach at Hogwarts for a year, see how the atmosphere worked. After all, a lot could change in eleven years.

But it was still Wizarding Britain, the world that had sized and swallowed him and kept him safe since he was eleven. He would find his place here, like he always had.

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Neville Longbottom gaped at his grandmother.

"We... what?"

"Chin up, Neville! It is currently a Politically good move. We'll have this girl stay over for a bit. She'll show everyone that being pureblood isn't being dirt. It's what your parents would have wanted."

"But Gran, Draco's told me about her. And he's not prejudiced- he talks to lot of other weres and muggle-borns. By the way, they're calling them First Generations, or First Gens' right now. But Melinda Brendiv's a jerk and a mean person! She's arrogant and - and! Why can't we have Timothy Smith stay over?"

"Because Timothy Smith has too low of an average. You know that only the top few children were invited to stay over for this week, but only Melinda agreed."

"Because her Mom's sick and she's got nowhere to stay. She HATES us!"

"I'm sure that's not how it is. She and you probably got off at the wrong foot."

The fireplace turned green, and the girl stepped back. She was wearing a pair of ripped skinny jeans, with a soft beaded beige poncho and a backpack. Her hair was in a loose braid.

"Excuse me, this Longbottom mansion, right? I am Melinda Brendiv, and it's a pleasure - It's YOU!" The girl turned bright red with anger, pointing a finger at Neville.

"You're that kid who sucks up to that Malfoy shit!"

"And you're a racist prick! Don't call my friends that word! Malfoy hangs out with Timothy Smith and Hermione who's a First Gen Witch! You're just angry cuz you're PMSing ALL THE TIME!"

"No, I just see into his filthy little brain! He's brainwashed you all into believing his lies and you're all under his control-"

"You're such an idiot! You know nothing!"

"CHILDREN. Neville, to your room. Twinkly," a house elf appeared, "Please show Melinda to the second - no, third - guest room. Then, please give her a few books about the Holocaust and German families who fought against it - as a matter of fact, let's start with _Number the Stars_ and _Book Thief._ Melinda, I hope you understand that not everyone accepted the full Nazi Propaganda, and that I trust my son's choice of friends. If you start an argument with him again, I will kick you out."

Dowager Longbottom swept out of the room after Neville, and Twinkly took Melinda to her room before bringing the books to her. With nothing to do, Melinda began to read.

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Ted Tonks laughed.

Muggle Books included in the Hogwarts Library? Oh, that's too good. A whole new room was added (by breaking down a wall into an un-used classroom). Sci-fi, fiction, Historical Fiction, Muggle History.

He grinned at his wife. It was rather funny, but a side effect of this wasn't just pureblood accepting muggleborns and having more connections to the new members of the community, but also muggleborns learning about pure-blood culture because of the increased interactions.

But really, everything was (almost) perfect. His daughter was in love with a wonderful young man, and they were both in school. He had a good amount of money. Really, all he needed was a good candidate to take over in the direction he was going in - he wanted the Wizarding world to be slightly more connected to London Above, and he was too old to fight politically. A few months, and he was going to resign and babysit Door's baby.

And sleep.

Boy, he wanted to sleep.

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Sirius jumped out of the way. Amelia Bones with a wand is a dangerous being indeed - she even gave Voldemort a run for his money (Literally. In a duel, he apparated away).

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"

"I want to restart what happened eleven years ago?"

"YOU WANT TO START ANOTHER WAR?!"

"NO! I don't - my dog, you're so DMLE, you lost the fun Amelia! I was asking you out!"

"Ah. Well, Sirius Black, I'm not as easy as I was back then." She leaned forward.

"Woo me."

Then, Amelia Bones walked out, leaving Sirius Black gaping at her. My god, re-learning to be an auror was easier than this... and he was doing both. At least Voldemort hadn't shown his stinky face yet.

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In the Room of Requirement, a small diadem shuddered. It had been single-crown-edly been holding up all of Hogwart's wards, but the magic of the Horcrux had run out, and only Rowena's magic was left. The soul shard was shoved out of the tiara and immediately flew to join the original piece, locked away in some body.

The original had a body.

The soul piece flew into the nearest thing - a snake. The soul still spoke to them, and animals didn't really have souls, per se. It was easy to push the snake's _anima_ out of the body and take it's place.

Then the snake hissed.

 _"Greetings, Master. I have left the Diadem and joined you in your familiar's body. Nagini was her name; you can call me anything and everything, Master."_

That changed things. Voldemort blinked. This was his Horcrux... oh. Had all the other horcruxes left their containers? Why? Where were they? Was that connected to why he felt better?

...

Oh.

So, the other horcruxes had become part of him - which explained why he was feeling better. Under his occlumency shields, Voldemort examined himself. He'd assumed that some his horcruxes returned... let's see, the diary, the cup... the diary... HHm... so, the locket and ring were either destroyed or safe. First thing first: Check on them.

He apparated to the cave and didn't bother going any further. It had been filled with fire - see the charr marks, the smoke and black dust still settling. After a minute of breathing in and sensing the magic, Voldemort was calm and knew, for certain, that Dumbledore was involved.

Which meant Potter was involved.

Which also meant that they were actively hunting him - Dumbledore did not understand power-lust, only wander-lust, and really, a few human lives were nothing. What did that muggle scientist say? Survival of the fittest. He was the fittest.

At any rate, Dumbledore was not going to stop until he was dead. He was definitely involving Potter. And while he understood Dumbledore, he had not clue of how Potter worked; what made him tick.

And he was clearly not the average Hufflepuff - the Prophet had explained that he was _almost_ a Slytherin.

Well, he had a year to figure out his enemies without them figuring out it's him.

First thing first: Have them all take him seriously. So...

Lockhart grew his hair, putting it in a pony-tail. It reached his mid-back, and without the curlers, it was just barely wavily. The ponytail made him look more serious. Darkening his eyebrows, stop dying his hair, and his hair was less gold, and more golden-brown. The eyebrows were a darker eyebrows, and boom! Put on a button-down shirt, pressed pants, and a simple dark green robe, and he was a ready-made poster boy. Smart and serious, not a pretty boy.

This would made Cornelius take him seriously.

And really, young boys liked dashing young men who were good with a wand better than they liked old grandfathers. So maybe he'd get Potter to support him as well; the Boy-Who-Lived was a good political figure.

And Immortal Minister of Magic Riddle was a good title for him. After that, he'd merge the French and British ministry, rule them both, then take Bulgaria and Russia. Italy next - the Mafia was powerful; but he'd just buy them off. After that, India - both Magic and Muggle, and then magic China and Japan, and against that, magic America really cannot stand. From there, the American muggle government would crumble because the two were interconnected, and from there he'd take the muggle British and French people, then muggle Bulgaria, India was taken already by then, but muggle China would be hard - he'd take muggle Japan first, then muggle China and Russia.

Whoever stood against him would be quietly killed. Wasn't that what the Mafia was for? And if the Zabini family was still in business, then he'd just have one of them tail after Potter. Forever. So that the Boy-Who-Lived cannot move against him.

As a matter of fact, why not write to the Zabinis right now? He'd negotiate a meeting with one of them.

 _Dear Zabini Famiglia,_

 _This is Riddle._ They knew who that was from the last war. _I'd like one of you to follow Harry Potter, and be prepared to kill him at a moment's notice. In return for this, I'm prepared to give 300 Galleons per -_ How much money did he have? Well, Tom Riddle J.R. had quite a lot, but how much did Gilderoy Lockhart have? He'd have to check. Time to start writing a new letter to Gringotts.

 _Dear Gringotts._

 _This is Lockhart._ The name was written in his blood, so the goblins could check. _I'd like to ask for my account balance. Also, per the Old Traditions, if I defeat the personal protections that Tom Riddle placed on his vault, then I have full right to everything within the vault. I'd like to try to defeat the vault tomorrow, whenever it is convent to you._

 _-Lockhart_

Gilderoy-Tom-Lockhart-Riddle sent the letter to Gringotts.

Two hours later, he had a letter from Gringotts- he could come at 3:00 tomorrow. His vault had a few thousand Galleons.

Riddle pulled out his letter to the Zabini Famiglia and continued writing.

 _Dear Zabini Famiglia,_

 _This is Riddle._ _I'd like one of you to follow Harry Potter, and be prepared to kill him at a moment's notice. In return for this, I'm prepared to give 300 Galleons every three weeks, transferred to your Gringotts account. I'd like Potter to be shadowed while at school and during the summer, and his every move reported to me._

 _The assassination is very likely to happen, but I would request to make it look natural._

Riddle hesitated, then added one more line.

 _I would like Dumbledore to die on Halloween. For this, I offer 1000 Galleons. The death can be in any way; I care not._

 _-Riddle_

Tom sent the Zabini family the letter.

A few hours later, he woke up to find a knife pressed to his neck. A beautiful woman was above him, his hands handcuffed together and to the bedpost behind his head. Her black hair shown, her creamy olive skin was flush against his.

 _Fuck_.

He had forgotten human impulses, and her red lips whispered against his left ear and he wanted to kiss her because he could sense her magic and it pulled him and she was smart to figure out where he was, and capable because the Famiglia trusted her, and she managed to put a knife to his throat and she was beautiful.

Her lips moved, and a beautiful, slightly hoarse voice hissed one word.

"Yes."

And then she was gone, and the knife and handcuffs had disappeared with her. Tom Marvolo Riddle decided that he either needed to sacrifice his body's desires for power, like he had done in his previous body, or he needed to start controlling those desires.

He didn't really need power - he had his own power combined with Gilderoy Lockhart's power.

And desires could be very useful - he had a beautiful body, and seduction was hard to do without some natural instinct.

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And old man, looking at maps and a few chessboards with white, black, and some random red pieces, received a letter.

 _Dear Zabini Famiglia,_

 _This is Riddle._ _I'd like one of you to follow Harry Potter, and be prepared to kill him at a moment's notice. In return for this, I'm prepared to give 300 Galleons every three weeks, transferred to your Gringotts account. I'd like Potter to be shadowed while at school and during the summer, and his every move reported to me._

 _The assassination is very likely to happen, but I would request to make it look natural._

 _I would like Dumbledore to die on Halloween. For this, I offer 1000 Galleons. The death can be in any way; I care not._

 _-Riddle_

Dumbledore could be gotten rid of easily. Give Blaise a gun and feed Dumbledore power-dampening potions (meant for children with accidental power problems) starting several weeks before. It was simple - dip those lemon drops into the potions and they're done.

But Blaise _liked_ the Potter boy. Not romantically - that was forbidden; a Zabini may not love except when the love was returned stronger than it was given and the lover was under oath to be loyal to the Famiglia. Besides, the boys were twelve. What sort of attraction was there before teenager-hood?

And yet, Blaise was friends with the Potter boy. Good friends. Well, he could simply have Blaise tail the boy. His mother - Lacole Zabini - could assassinate him.

The old man smiled grimly. It was strange that Lacole meant _Victory for (the) People_ ; or _Victorious People_.

She was the best they had seen for a while. So far, her son had shown the same potential - but forcing a boy to kill his friend (if it came to that) was a bit hard.

He smiled, and called to Lacole Zabini.

When she came, he showed her the letter and watched her lips slip into a slow smile.

"I'll tell him yes. It'll be easy for Blaise to tail Potter, after all, they're friends. And... as for the Dumbledore problem... I'd like to take care of it. Blaise will get me into Hogwarts by getting hurt and asking for his mother. I'll use a gun, it's too fast for magic to block, but just in case, I'll get him to drink some magic-dulling potions before hand. We'll slip them into his lemon drops... I'll take care of it."

"Yes, you do that. But we'll need someone else to kill Potter if it comes to that. Blaise can't do that -"

"His half brother, Fabrizio, can take care of Potter. He's shadowing the Brendiv matriarch, courtesy of Lord Black, in case she starts a revolution. She'd die, looking like she was ripped apart by other weres. But if Brendiv actually needs to die, she'd do it long before Potter needs to die. So Fabrizio will kill the were-matriarch, then take care of the little boy. And Blaise won't need to do anything except slip Dumbledore some potions."

"Of course, Lacole. You're my favorite granddaughter; go ahead and make the family proud."

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Diana Brendiv looked at the weres gathered around her. Some of them were nodding and listening to her words. She continued.

"Greyback was found dead with a hole in his throat. And now, once a month, we're all sent to a single place. One little forest in a concentrated force... surrounded by silver."

"It's a HUGE forest. Of course it's surrounded by silver! And things are better than ever! Our children are going to Hogwarts, are we really going to ruin this?!"

"It's not going to last! I don't want to be pinned in a single spot. Whoever took down Greyback..."

"It was Hunter."

That last voice was quiet, hissed.

The room was old, dusty, an attic with a few cushions to sit on. In a corner, a man leaned against the wall. He was in his mid-forties, his grey-black hair and short beard making him older. His gleaming eyes, bright yellow, proved that his wolf and him were close, nearly one. This was rare, and made him Alpha among these other Alphas of the pack.

Not to mention, he was learned - street-smart in all of Ireland, most of England.  
And London.

He spoke of London with a sort of dazed love, the way that man had never spoke of woman. He spoke of the smoke and gray and fog as if it was a woman's kiss. He whispered of the gothic buildings like a fiery embrace, coming and taking him.

He whispered about Time, about the hidden pockets of wonder and the sloping hills covered in both grass and cement.

But he didn't speak of it as a human city, as a place of opportunity. He spoke of it like history, like a lover, and the others forgave him because he had helped the wolves escape from Aurors and from Death Eaters in the War, and he hid them well. He was powerful and strong and his mind was keen, and he dreamed of a city that smelled of the fire of 1666, September 2nd to 5th.

"It was Hunter", the man repeated, his voice wonder and awe and longing. The way one referred to a father and to Cicero and to their Alpha. Their Lord and Master and their General.

"Greyback had infringed on the Hunter's territory. And... this is Hunter protecting his territory. We don't go Wizarding lands. We go to a place that smells of Time; and that is the Hunter's territory. We are his people. We are the wolves of the Alpha of History."

"How do you know?" Diana Brendiv wasn't giving easily.

"Dear Diana. Greyback's cadavar smelled of time, the forest we go to smells of time, and this Hunter killed the Great Beast of London."

There was a hiss, as everyone gasped. The Great Beast wasn't seen - but it another animal, it's territory wide. Strong and big and smelling of dirt and anger and blood. Casual strength. Hunter had killed him... no one questioned the Old Wolf's knowledge.

"How do you smell time?" Diana Brendiv was young; barely twenty-seven. She had been taken young by a pureblood wizard, giving birth young, and had bitten her little girl gently, the wolf making her child her cub as well. But she was young, and alpha because of her passion, her charisma, not her experience. The other Alphas treated her like a child, a joke, a threat, a younger college. But she had yet to prove herself, and questioning the Old Wolf was not a good move.

"You have never been to London. Never seen the slips and turnes, the alleys, the beautiful Below, the - the fires and screams and armies and everything, the dancing of time, and the hope and strength, the stubbornness and refusal to give and the stiff anger, broiling and boiling and calm fighting against and for everything. London is _everything_ , and it smells of Time. Time and smoke."

The Old Wolf slipped out of the room, and the others shuddered, because his scent wasn't his own - it was saturated with a spicy, dirty scent of blood and coal and roses. He smelled of Time; and compared to that, his own scent didn't even reach their noses.

He was frightening, and his eyes saw far too much, and they would die for that being who smelled of Time. Their wolves demanded it, and Diana Brendiv suddenly understood that she would die for him as well.

There would be no revolution... until the Old Wolf commanded it.

Diana stretched out to think and to take a nap.

...

and then, a young Italian beauty slipped out of the room's window to go home. He had to inform his mother that there was a bigger player than Diana Brendiv. The Old Wolf was frightening, and he spoke of London like a man in love.

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Harry Potter gaped. Fleur was beautiful. She _danced_. Instead of just fighting, she had spun out of the way, standing on her toes, twirling and bending into impossible positions as he could just twist out of the way of her spells.

Then again, her arm was twisted into a... wrong... angle. It was also awkwardly wrapped around her ribs.

Well, his legs burned when he moved. So she was brilliant at aiming as well.

Flour looked at Potter up and down. He was tense and quivering, and damn, he was good. And mad. He was wild when fighting, relying on carefully honed instinct.

It was fighting against a huge bird, one that flew in and out, going up and down, jumping over her and forcing her to spin out of the way - she was incorporating her dancing and ballet lessons just to stay alive. And this boy was only a few years younger than her.

Her Veela nature informed her that he would be perfect within two years. And she wanted him, damn it!

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A man knocked on the door.

Richard blinked, stood up, and called over his shoulder to Door that he'd get it. On the way to the door, he paused suddenly.

Potential threat. Several of them.

And Door was pregnant - not very able to fight.

Without thinking, Richard grabbed his spear, throwing it over his shoulder. Hunter's old knife was already in his belt. He had just been checking on the Fire of London (1666, September 2nd to 5th), and had somehow fallen into the London Blitz (September 7, 1940, to May 10 1941).

So his shirt was badly burned and he was covered in soot. He just walked into the kitchen to get some water when the knock came.

Holding the spear slightly tighter, Richard opened the door.

There was a young woman there, dirt streaked. Behind her, a young Italian was a little bit away, his eyes only on her.

"What do you want?" The door was fully opened, but Richard had stepped outside. The hallway was a bad place to fight, and this woman was spoiling for one.

"You're Hunter?"

"Yes. You're..." He looked at her poster, at her eyes. "You're an Alpha were-wolf. And you're unhappy with me."

"You're powerful. I dunno why; the fucking ministry won't make a single bloody mention of you, the muggle stuff lost you someplace a decade or so ago. Who the Bloody hell are you, and what are you doing?"

"I'm Richard. Richard Mayhew. Dick. But I don't care what people are doing. You wolves are in London; I gave you lot a place to stay. What's your problem?"

"I want to you to make sure the humans don't try and kill us."

"I don't play with human politics. Enjoy your life- I've just made it better."

Richard went back to his house, and Diana Brendiv stared at the door for a minute. Then she shrugged and went home. The Italian by the name of Fabrizio slipped the notebook back into his pocket where he had recorded the full conversation. Then he followed her.


	18. Chapter 18

_The Fae smiled at the three boys on the bridge. He had enjoyed coming to powerful individuals and laying ruin upon them. After all... they put ruin on the Fae, and the more inter-human wars the better. They might stem the ridiculous growth rate humans had. They bred like... parasite._

 _He had a long, black cloak. A silvery skull mask. A Scythe._

 _"Well Done... you have escaped where many_ _didn't." The Fae told the three. He told them that they could each request a single gift. They would each have a terrible curse- no one with a gift would have a peaceful life, and the owner of the first two would die violent deaths. Then, because Curses needed Hidden "Blessings", the Fae added another side - If someone with Fae Blood had all three objects, that person would be King of the Fae... and after his death, all three objects would loose their power._

 _The first brother asked for an unbeatable wand. So the Fae took a stick of wood. It would heighten the reflexes of the person to a ridiculous amount, and it would magnify the person's magic quiet a lot. It also boosted self-confidence..._

 _He would be arrogant, he'd die a violent death, and wars would be fought over the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny._

 _The second brother asked for a stone to speak to the dead with. That was impossible - who spoke to the Dead? So, the stone would pull images out of the person's mind, and make the 'dead' say a mixture of what the person expected and wanted to hear._

 _It would drive him mad and to suicide... it would drive most of its owners to suicide, but it would be wanted. Massacres made over the Resurrection Stone._

 _And the last brother... wanted to hide...? Alright. An invisibility cloak. The fae took out his baby blanket and enchanted it._

 _It would make him invisible, but it would attract trouble. In hoards. It would give the person luck, and help, but it would attract trouble and attention. A lot of attention... not to the cloak, but to the person wearing it._

 _The people with the cloak were the ones who fought the wars, they were the martyrs. Whoever could combine all three would be king. The Fae went home and was congratulated on his prank on the humans._

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Harry Potter opened the door to the compartment in the Hogwarts Express. They had overslept and arrived just as the barrier was closing - Harry and Tonks had flown through at a run, and while Tonks was storing the trunks, Harry had gone to see his friend.

"Hey, Blaise! Listen, I'm gonna terrify the Firsties-" In other words, get them to sign contracts that force them to be nice - "I'll be back in, what, two hours? Listen, there's a girl, her name's Luna, and."

And.

And.

Harry had seen her with her father, and she was _broken_. Her father, too, was broken, but far less so. He was coping. And she wasn't. And she had some sort of fae connection; nothing too big, no fae blood, but. A connection. Perhaps an ancestor saved a fae's life. But Dubhshlain had seen it. It was written into her face, her aura. She had seen something terrible, and he had to help her because his people owed her because she saved one of them. It was in her blood.

"She's so... broken. Something terrible happened. So please help her. I'm going to bring her to you, and I need you to help her." Oh, she saved a life, but she wasn't fae. Too human for a connection that Luna needed, that he couldn't give.

Blaise gaped. What do you say to something like that? "Oh, there's a scared traumatized kid and you're gonna help her, OK?" How do you answer that?

Harry turned around, and pulled Luna into the compartment. She had a simple pale green shirt, and a pleated black skirt. Her hair had feathers and random braids and beads and her eyes were wide and her face was blank.

Too blank. Blaise knew that look. It was the look of his uncle; who had seen his brother die when he was five. His brother was seven.

It was the face his mother had for two years, seven weeks and two days, when she watched his father bleed to death.

It was the glance of his half brother, Fabrizio, when he had seen their grandfather shoot his nephew; Fabrizio's uncle. Because that uncle was a threat. Blaise didn't know why.

And, oh, _mio Dio_ , _Blaise_ had that look; he had worn it when his little sister, little Sorella, _Bice_ , his Bice! She cried, he could feel her tears oh his shoulder still; and, and,

 _Mio Dio_ , this Luna had the same expression. Blaise was lost.

"My name is Blaise Zabini." His voice was soft, gentle. Really, it was alright for Zabinis to train minions, didn't his grandfather say that? She could be a minion, and so his mother and Famiglia would allow him to protect this little wisp of a girl and her big grey eyes. Because honestly, he had been trained to see emotions and this girl was very much broken.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he continued, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, before pulling her into the seat next to him. And she gave a small smile, and Blaise Zabini was lost, because Bice had give him _that look_ before - before -

 _Bice!_

"I'm Luna. Blaze is like a comet, you know, a bright streak of light across a really dark sky with stars that you can't really see because there are too many cloud-filled nights in England."

Harry smiled, and quickly put the same spell over the two of them that Tonks had put over Ron, Draco and Hermione a year ago. On the train ride, Luna and Blaise would be honest with each other and would trust each other. After all, Blaise also needed to open up.

In another compartment, Colin Creevy was being entertained by Ginny Weasely. Oh... they were talking about him. About how Hufflepuff _had_ to be the best house if _Harry Potter_ was in it. Harry stupefied them, and wrote out the following contract:

 _We, the signers of the contract, agree to the following: During our Hogwarts years, we will do our best not to judge anyone based on their fame, house, beauty, blood status, political power, or social status. We will also do our best to get an EE or an O in every class. We will do our best in the DADA training rooms. In return, I, Dubhshlain, the writer of the contract, agree not to murder the singers of the contract during their Hogwarts years._

Then, he woke up Colin, gave him a quill, and told him to sign. Gaping at the famous boy, Colin signed the contract. Then, Ginny signed. There was a long moment after Harry left.

"So... he's famous because of something he did when he was a kid? Um... we don't even know if he's nice..."

"Yeah. So. What classes are you looking forward to?"

Harry smiled. The rest of the first years had all quickly signed the same contract as he took it from compartment to compartment, letting them copy down the basics so they won't forget.

The Sortings were going to be more and more interesting, after all, students were judging based on Houses anymore - which meant students who were cunning went to Slythering, not those who hated Gryffindor.

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Angelia looked at the boy who went from compartment to compartment. She had hated him from the beginning. First of all, he was Hufflepuff, almost Slytherin, and he was supposed to be a GRYFFINDOR!

Second, she had figured it out: that _traitor_ had been telling Firsties that houses don't matter, and they did! There was a REASON no one liked Snakes; You-Know-Who was from that house! They couldn't trust a house like THAT! And Dumbledore was a Gryff; so clearly, their house was the best - and if Potter was a Puff, then Potter was a wimp. Really!

And - and - Oh! He had _ruined_ the Twins! They were fun-loving and alive and _Gryffindor!_ They were wild and reckless and she had loved Fred. Now... now... he was still fun-loving. But his Gryffindor was gone, and she had loved Fred's Gryffindor. How when she said "Prank a Raven," and he said "Color changing hair-styles" and she said "Prank a Slytherin," and he said "Color-changing hair styles, puke-inducing potions, and robes that disappear every four hours at random. Let's go do it!"

Yes! That was what she missed! It was the edge, the leader in him, the willingness to shoot bludgers at the head! Now, he shot them at the body... and yes, his grades had risen, and really, he was more responsible, but damn it! _She_ could be the responsible one!

That Harry Potter had ruined her friend, and, by God, he'd pay.

As he walked out of a compartment, he nodded at himself, and whispered "All Done." All done poisoning future Gryffs, huh? Well, she'd show him!

"Excuse me, you're Harry Potter, right?"

He smiled at her. Ha! Like she'd be fooled! _That_ smile hid the Devil's face!

"Can I speak to you? Alone?"

They walked into the compartment, and Angelina Johnson sent a Petrificus Totalus at him. It connected with the boy, and Harry Traitor Potter turned into a stone statue.

"That's for ruining my Fred Weasely. You made him... _soft_. He doesn't care about Gryffindor Pride; you ruined him and George and even Ron is hanging out with that horrid Slytherin girl and that snot-nosed Malfoy Ravenclaw, and that little Hufflepuff Longbottom! Well, this is my comeback." Angelina turned and stalked out of the compartment, closing the door behind her.

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Lecole Zabini smiled grimly at the stack of potions. What people neglected to mention was that magic-dampening potions were very highly illegal, after all, overdosing meant dampening your magic. Permanently.

And that was what she was looking for. Really, this wasn't even too illegal. After all, the laws concerning these potions were more... flexible in Italy, and that's where she was. It was getting them to England that was a problem.

She smiled, penned a note to her son, and wrapped up the potions. Then she sent the note to Blaise. Dumbledore was as good as gone.

^^^LineBreak^^^  
Diana Brendiv looked at the note from her daughter. At last! She was worried that the pureblood family hosing her daughter would do something terrible... but Melinda had told her that she could take care of herself, and she'd run into Purebloods eventually.

This letter was so long, it was practically a book.

Diana settled down and began to read.

 _Dear Mother,_

 _I am well. I hadn't written to you because I was not sure what to think. But now, I am quiet certain that you are wrong._

 _You told me that I cannot trust Purebloods, but that Weres are alright. Dowager Longbottom has given me several books on the Holocaust, on the Armenian Genocide, on the Rwandan (_ _Rwandan?) Genocide. Neville also showed me PROOF that several werewolf packs sided with You-Know-Who! PROOF!_

 _You told me that as we know what discrimination is, we won't do it. RUBBISH! Greyback's pack and others, too, went after MUGGLEBORNS!_

 _And also, LOTS of purebloods fought for Muggleborn rights and were rights and whatnot! You're a liar! I don't know what you were thinking, but it's not black-and-white!_

 _You should read A) Diary of Anne Frank, B) Number the Stars, C) Book Theif, and watch Hotel Rwanda, and you should read Muggle history books about 1930-1950 in Europe! Because there are good and bad in every group, and you can't just judge like that._

On and on the letter went, quoting books and books that proved that even when Germany was bad, there were good Germans and such.

And letter went on and one about Neville's parents, about how brave they were to fight against You-Know-Who, and Melinda was panicking.  
This was SO much worse than she expected, so much worse.

They hadn't hurt her little girl, not physically. They had brainwashed her little baby, changed her, did something.

Diana would have to save her baby, and nothing would stop her.

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Sirius Black yelped and jumped. He had been re-drafting a letter to Amelia Bones, when a young Italian appeared in front of him.

He belatedly realized that the Italian was handsome, holding his wand, handsome, holding a letter, and handsome.

Alas, his heart belonged to Amelia - otherwise, he'd elope.

"You're Fabrizio? The Zabini who's on Diana Brendiv?"

"Si. You are Black. 'Tis a pleasure, as you English say."

"What do Italians say?"

"I am Zabini. We get right to business, and what we say is none of your concern. This is a letter that Diana Brendiv received from her daughter. The Target is angry, and feels that her daughter has been 'poisoned' by the, what do you call them? Purebloods. Yes. She is angry, but the Old Wolf has forbidden a revolution. The Old Wolf is the head Alpha. She wishes revenge on the Longbottoms."

"If... if she starts hunting the Longbottoms, kill her immediately. If she starts getting others to help her get the Longbottoms, kill her immediately. If you kill her, then you gotta make it seem like... like a suicide, or like she was killed by weres. Gotit?"

"Si. Would you like to read the letter?"

"Ye... no. No point, I already know what's in it - only one thing could get Diana so vengeful from what you've told me, and that's Melinda telling her the pureblood's aren't so bad."

Fabrizio nodded and disappeared. There was no 'pop' to signify apparition.

^^^Linebreak^^^

Remus cleared his throat.

"I already asked Door for permission to marry her sister, and she gave it... but, um, Andromeda, Ted, do you give me permission to court Nymphadora Ingress Tonks?"

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Fleur grinned. That summer had been the BEST! There were no Death Eaters in France, but they finally set up the wards in all the main magic areas, getting people not to judge and whatever. Her mother had taken a lot of convincing, but at last the lot of them put up the same wards in the French Ministry and schools and everywhere that the British Ministry had. And the contracts with the French Newspapers were also signed... really, it was _chaermante._ She couldn't see the results. And with Beaxbatons having all the 'special rooms' that Hogwarts had... well, things were perfect.

She was only a few steps away from the fifth-year carriage; there were separate yearly carriages pulled by abraxans. And her sister, Gabrielle was joining this year! Of course, being Veela, she would look eight... until she looked twice that age, changing over the span of nine months.

But Gabrielle would be fine. After all, Fleur had already cornered four different first-years, two girls and two boys, and made them promise to protect Gabrielle from as much physical and emotional trauma as they could, without inflicting too terrible trauma upon themselves. A popular girl (it was obvious, she was pretty, and nice and was just good at life), a rising jock - sorry, quidditch star, and two know-it-alls. Then she made them all sit on the same bench in the carriage, and put that spell on them that Tonks had taught her - made them all honest with each other and trust each other while in the carriage. Because they'd probably have other friends, but this way, they'd have several hours to get used to each other and to the girl they were to protect.

Fleur could be pretty ruthless - after all, she was best in the scoreboards, and had been since forever. And when she had family to protect, she was even more so...

Besides... pretty soon, she'd come into her full Fae inheritance, and then, and then, she'd only be loyal to her mate and children and king, and she wanted Gabrielle to have protection when her big sister forgot her.

She knew Harry was going to do that to his little sibling as soon as possible... when the child was going to be born, that is.

Fleur smiled at her friends. She was already feeling less affection for them; already loosing interest in little bits and pieces of the human world. She supposed it was because of her training - after all, if she had let her magic develop by itself, it'd develop when she was... eighteen? But no. She was pushing both her Fae and human magic to it's fullest, making it develop and strengthen a lot more than otherwise. Like a muscle, she supposed.

After all, it was not normal to have such a large affinity for fire, even for a Veela. But that was all right. Power was always helpful.

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Tom Marvolo Riddle looked at his list.

First Item) Remove Political Enemies: Dumbledore, just in case. Cornelius Fudge, Delores Umbridge if needed. If Dowager Longbottom makes a fuss, then her as well. Diana Brendiv was too radical to be controlled from a moderate point of view.

Second Item) Figure out how to control Potter - not kill; no point in martyring anyone. The above mentioned were too ugly and old to be martyrs. Who did the boy love?

Third Item) Figure out why so much of his research had mentioned Time, and London Below as part of magic. He had ignored it in his teenage years, worried about being immortal, and being a Dark Lord. But now... now he was immortal - even if his horcruxes weren't safe, which they were, then he had a huge snake helping him out. Which was quite helpful.

Fourth Item) Check the Horcruxes.

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Blaise and Luna were talking quietly when she stiffened.

"Luna...?"

"Dubhshlain's stone. C'mon. The Snorcacks say we gotta help him." And Luna stalked out of the compartment. Blaise stared for a long moment, for a long terrible moment.

Her face was panicked, but determined.

She pause, right outside.

"Are you coming?" Her voice shook slightly, her knuckles were white and clenched tightly. In that voice was a challenge, but also pleading. She was begging him, and warning him - if he didn't come, this was the end.

And Blaise could see, in his mind's eye, as friend after friend after friend kept sitting.

And Blaise could see, in his mind's eye, as Bice pursed her lips to keep from crying as the children sneered. _Bice...!_

He raised an eyebrow and made a big show of stretching comfortably. Luna crumbled, like a paper figurine in the rain, getting wet and slowly turning grey and folding over itself until it's hidden and nothing and unnoticeable.

Blaise stood up.

"Did you expect me to stay? Lead the way, il mio vagabondo." _Let me come with you, my traveler, my wanderer, my little Bice, let me come with you, please, please...!_

And Luna lit up, like the sunrise, all reds and golds and pale blue streaks and mio Dio, Blaise was lost.

She offered him her hand, and Blaise took it, and she pulled him to... wherever her Dubhshlain was.


	19. Chapter 19

Tom Marvolo Riddle sighed and put down his quill. Then he looked up at what he had written.

 _Goal: Immortal Ruler of Britain, then world._

 _To be taken seriously when running for minister, must have PROOf of having done something great (i.e., defeated some monster)._

 _Only monster easily controlled: Basilisk within Chamber._

 _PLAN: Kill Dumbledore because he knows I've opened the Chamber last time and I don't need him talking to the press._

 _Then release Salazar's Beast on random folks._

 _Killing Mudbloods:_

 _PROS:  
When I save them, I become a hero to majority of people. _

_When I save them, I can make a speech about equality, and_ _jumpstart political career while in Hogwarts._

 _CONS:_

 _When I save them, it's harder to win pureblood's support._

 _When I save them, I'll have to deal with a lot of Pure/mud-blood questions - about blood superiority; and those are easily answered badly. If I answer ANY of them pro-Pureblood, then the press will think I'm supporting Slytherin's Heir and the monster killing all the Mudbloods._

 _IS IT WORTH GOING AFTER MUDBLOODS?_

 _Note: Last time, I started off with killing Mudbloods - and panic helps control people better. Also, if Salazar's Heir doesn't pick of Mudbloods, then people will question._

 _SO: KILL DUMBLEDORE, ATTACK Mudbloods, SAVE Mudbloods. Figure out how to control Potter... or make him a victim? Makes it more tragic._

 _Then: Become Minister. Make Britain ready to fight! Increase budgeting for . .Enforce. Make training necessary for most jobs in Ministry - as a matter of fact; make the Minister more smoothly run._

 _If asked about changes, say following:  
Ministry is an old, rusty clock, and I'm making it run like a smooth, oiled machine. _

_Then: Take France, and rest of world. Note: Mix all magic then muggle ministries together, so they all depend on each other - none can revolt because it affects them negatively. If Africa revolts, then Africa looses all the products from everywhere else; so it'll starve within 24 hours. Thus, no revolutions._

 _Immortal, benevolent ruler._

 _Note: Make special ward that kills everyone with an IQ below 95, drawing on the life force of everyone with an IQ of 95 or below - that way, they die faster._

 _I do NOT need idiotic followers, and even those of high IQ can be indoctrinated into believing I'm god._

 _Also: make special department to deal with good Propaganda, so no one thinks of fighting me._

Tom in Lockhart's body stroked the snake around his shoulders. Nagini was really precious.

The children ought to be arriving in an hour or so, and his plans were mostly set - only the technical difficulties needed to be smoothed out. Whatever.

He was all set, with a plan and no one realized who he was so it was perfect. The icing on the cake? Dumbledore himself asked him to teach... and fifty years earlier, the man had turned him down.

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Melinda swallowed carefully, before knocking on the compartment door.

Hermione opened it, looked at the girl up and down and sneered. Melinda closed her eyes, swallowed, and opened them again.

"I had acted... inadequately last year. It was not my intention to insult. May I try to earn your hand in friendship?" The words were stiff and stilted. Then again, the two hardest things that humanity had ever done were a) thinking, and b) apologizing and admitting that they were wrong.

Hermione knew this. She also knew what it was like to be alone, and to hate with a passion. And she also knew that if Melinda hurt her friends, then she would _kill_ the werewolf girl.

"You may enter."

Then she leaned over and repeated the last bit into Melinda's ear. And she _knew_ how to kill.

"I... I know." The werewolf girl muttered.

Melinda entered the compartment, and a stilted conversation gradually grew more real.

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Luna opened the compartment door, and gasped.

"Harry!"

Blaise, thinking clearly, immediately unfroze the boy... though he kept his wand out and held a knife. In case Harry turned out to be polyjuiced or something. Harry gasped, rolled over, gagged, and stood up.

"That stupid girl! I hate her! Angelina Johnson is going to _hell!_ You know what, I love you two, but I really need a single moment."

Luna grabbed his arm.

"I don't know what you're doing, but there are nargles in the mistletoe."

"Yuck! I'm not going to KISS her! I'm just gonna teach her a lesson! I'll be _right_ back!"

Harry ran out of the compartment, throwing open the one with Angelina sitting in it. She gaped at him.

"How - what are you - how did you? -"

"If you'd all excuse me, I'd like to speak to Angelina. Alone. So shoo!"

The other members in the compartment immediately started arguing - "Who're you to tell us what to do?" "Are you a goblin or a baby? Get out!" "What's a kid like _you_ have to do with Angelina?"

And, lastly, Angelina.

"It's fine, guys, this'll only take a minute. Right, Harry?"

"Right. _Accio Angelina's wand. Stupefy."_

Harry pulled out a parchment, and began to write.

 _I, Dubhshlain, and I, _, the signer of this contract, agree to the_ _following: The signer will not judge anyone based on their house, political power, economic status, age, or beauty. The signer will do their best in all of their classes, and will do their best to tutor at least four different children, one from each house. The signer will do their best to make those they tutor also follow the stipulations laid down in the contract. The signer will do their best to get an EE or an O in each class. The signer will do their best not to harm Harry Potter in any way, shape or form._

 _The Signer of this Contract, _, will agree to owe Dubhshlain three favors, and they must fulfill these favors upon pain of death. Favor #1: The context of this contract, nor the identity of Dubhshlain, are to be revealed under any circumstances._

Then, Angelina awoke with a quill in her hand, a contract in front of her, and a wand placed at her neck, with her head held by her hair. She gulped - the hand clenching her hair was not the hand of a child.

And she owed him _favors_. Three favors, which meant that she owed him an infinite amount - "Do me a favor, Angelica. Owe me three million more favors." A simple sentence, that was all it took, but if that boy said those words, she was trapped for life.

Oh, god. She was a slave to this Dubhshlain, this Harry Potter, and, and...

"Sign, Angelina. I can't perform the killing curse, but I can do a simple reducto to your head."

She had no choice. Angelina signed, Harry smiled and gave her her wand back, and walked back to his friends.

^^^LineBreak^^^

While Harry went off to get revenge on his Angelina, Luna went to the bathroom. Or, more accurately, Luna looked at Blaise and told him simply that the Bibbling Humgubi wouldn't like what Blaise was about to do, so she would go comfort them. In the restroom.

As soon as Luna left, Blaise's house-elf, Arturo, appeared.

"Master, here are a pack of magic-dulling potions! As Mistress ordered me to bring to young master, so I have brought them."

"Excellent. Well done, Arturo." The house elf beamed, and Blaise looked at the potions carefully.

"My family has watched the Headmaster for some time, Arturo. Go and ask, does anyone eat Dumbledore's lemon drops, or is it just him?"

Arturo popped away for a total of ten seconds.

"No, young master. Twenty-eight years ago, a student pranked Dumbledore by spelling his lemon-drop cup so that only Dumbledore would want them. Anyone else would automatically dislike the very idea of Lemon Drops."

"How... quaint. A student's prank leads to a murder. Very well - Arturo, do house-elves unwrap the candy to up into Dumbledore's cup? Dumbledore wouldn't have time to do it himself..."

"Yes, Master. The Elveses do most of the shopping for Dumble's candy, too."

"Marvelous. Arturo, your job is to be that elf who unwraps the candy and puts it in the cup. Before placing the candies in the cup, every candy must be thoroughly soaked in the potion. And renew the enchantment on the cup... and add a new one: a compulsion to make Dumbledore want more candy. A VERY minor one, not enough for him to notice. You are dismissed!"

Arturo took the potions, bowed, and disappeared with a crack. Blaise smiled thinly. This would be an interesting job.

Then Luna walked back into the compartment, and Blaise decided that the train ride would be very interesting as well.

His sister - _Bice, Bice, Bice_ \- had been rather interesting too, so interesting wasn't, _couldn't_ , be a bad thing.

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Melinda looked at Neville speculatively. He was smart, and although he was rather... pudgy... in the beginning of the previous year, he was now very fit and had brilliant grades due to all the training and a new wand. Furthermore, being raised a Pureblood heir, his manners were impeccable. She'd date him next year... besides, it seamed Hermione was more interested in Draco, anyway.

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Tom shuddered.

He had been in Hogwarts since the beginning of the day, and he had been getting a progressively bigger headache. Tom was _not_ prone to headaches. And now, after checking on the wards, he has figured out why.

His soul was that of Tom Marvolo Riddle. And Hogwarts was feeding off his magic.

He growled as he examined the wards. Only two hours until the train arrives... Two hours to change those wards, make them feed off of natural magic. He could do that. But he wanted to do something else, as well.

He recognized Dumbledore's signature, but there were some other ones - one that was a were's another that reminded him of Bellatrix Estranges, but... wasn't _quite_ hers. They would all have to die, but really, what was the point in killing every single werewolf? It was impossible and would start a revolution.

So for two hours, Tom Marvolo Riddle worked hard and without pause, ending with a bracelet on his wrist - a thick, braided cord that would sense and catalog all the adult magical signatures around him, and when it hit the were's or the not-Bella's signature, it would inform him... and tell him about the person's name and what that person looked like and how old he was. Quiet brilliant. Then Tom changed the wards, so that they fed on the natural magics.

It took only a minute before the headache ceased.

Really... that could have ended his magic, pulled the soul away from his body... had he not realized, he would have been dead - his soul pushed out of Gilderoy's body due to the lack of magic tying them together.

What a great trick.

It would also explain his random improvement within the sanity/common sense department. After all, if his Horcruxes were pushed out of their containments, then they joined him... and the last one joined him _after_ he regained his body, so it went into Nagini? That made sense.

But really, if sanity was the cost of a horcrux, then he'd better not make anymore. He'd just figure out how to make Nagini indestructible... and he'd do it this weekend.

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Theodore Nott shivered.

His father was dead - and good riddance. His father had made him Smile.

He had made that little girl Smile, made his mother Smile before killing her; made random muggle women off the street Smile before raping them.

He had made his son watch.

He had made his son Smile.

But that was it. His father was dead. On that day, Theodore Nott became Head of the Nott Family, and he told the House Elves to open all the doors, bury all the corpses which his father had preserved. If anyone was still alive...

Well.

If it was a muggle woman, heal her completely, and change her memories - she had been kidnapped, then she escaped. Bring her to the center of London, in fresh clothes.

As for the little girl... Heal her, of course.

Then they'd figure out what to do. She'd been with them for as long as Theodore could remember. Then again, his father Imperio'ed him and used legilimency and confusion charms so often that his memories were all over the place.

She could have, hypothetically, come yesterday, and he'd been charmed to remember her.

Anyway, that little muggle girl, heal her, please, he told the house elf.

The house elf couldn't. His father had used a special knife, and if one had magic then it would scar. The little girl would Smile forever.

She had magic. She would Smile. The House-elf had removed almost all of the memory charms on her, then him. All right, the girl has been with them since... since his mother died. Since he had been eight. She hadn't spoke once, but she could. She wrote English on paper, and could hear him, and she laughed with her voice. She could speak, he was sure of it. She just didn't.

The House elf recommended taking her home.

He shrugged. He remembered the girl now, a lot better. She had a story.

She also Smiled. He would take the girl to Hogwarts, ask someone what to do.

Now, the girl was sitting still, in front of him. She had an invisibility cloak. He knew she was there, the impressions on the seat gave it away. She was swinging her legs. Sometimes a giggle escaped her.

Her Smile was just as ugly as his.

But she smiled, not just Smiled. So he'd keep her. She was better than anything or anyone else.

He had taken her with him to school last year, finding a random room in the dungeons, ordering a house-elf to bring a spare mattress into the room, and to bring food thrice a day there. He would go there, do his homework with her, explaining everything. She had no wand, but she listened and wrote questions and he answered as best he could. The house-elves brought her books, brought her things to color with and made her a special doorway, so should could enter Hogwarts paintings and wander around, invisible. She always wore the cloak. And she was always in her room when Theodore hurried there.

Someone knocked on his compartment. Theodore replaced the glamour on his face, so no one could see his Smile, and opened it, letting the trolley lady know that he didn't want any sweets.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Severus Snape closed his eyes. He was far to tired for a new school year. No one appreciated potion-making anymore.

But really, he wished he had money to do research. He was smart enough for it, but research required going to a special school after Hogwarts, specializing in the subject. And there were no scholarships. So instead, he experimented on his own, sending letters to the editor of the Daily Prophet about what he figured out and such.

Severus sighed again. He and Lily had dreamed of going to the school; taking summer jobs in Diagon Alley and pretending that getting paid in sickles meant you can pay in thousands of galleons. Right.

And now Lily was dead... And he had to protect that Potter boy from the terrible DADA professor. He had read Lockhart's books, he _knew_ them to be false - the timelines intersected. Last year, it was a madman

^^^LineBreak^^^

Luna turned and looked straight at Blaise Zabini.

"Tell Harry to read about the Triwizard Tournament. You should, too. Can you teach me to dance? We have two hours left, and the compartments could be enlarged easily."

"Of course, I'll look it up. Why dancing?"

"It's important."

"Alright. Put your hand on my shoulder. What was your mother's favorite song?"

Really, thought Blaise, with a girl like Luna, he was actually rather... thankful that Harry had left and gone to terrorize students.

^^^LineBreak^^^

"Welcome, Welcome to another year at Hogwarts..."

Harry tuned out the headmaster. Blaise Zabini was watching the man rather critically, but really, who cared. Another year, another schmear. Harry wanted food. He'd been petrified, for god's sakes, and then he'd wandered around, putting as many people under contracts as possible - no favors, though. Demanding too much from Magic and other people for no reason meant that Magic demanded way too many things from you.

If you took control, then eventually Magic expected you to take control, and if you don't, if you fail Magic and loose the Balance... that won't end well. But really, after Angelina, he had walked around, asking way too many people to be safe. Last time, he had Tonks doing most of the magic - stupefying and such. He could work on magicking the contracts.

Now? He had to do both to random people who were _older_ than him... and do it to all the first years, as well. God. Harry wanted to eat and sleep and nothing else. Colin Creevy, Gryffindor... Luna Lovegood, Ravenclaw... Ginny Weasely, Slytherin... huh. Unexpected. Then: Food!

Harry quickly downed a bowl of soup, then began tearing into some stew. It was brilliant, and he was hungry, and quiet frankly, he couldn't care less about the giggling students around him.

Then, Susan Bones leaned forward.

"Have you been contracted?"

"What?" Harry blinked. Contracted? But he had forbidden letting people know about the contract unless they all already knew! Unless he had missed that bit in some of the contracts? Or maybe, students heard each other talking? Either way, they knew. This was confirmed by Susan's bright, cheerful, chatter.

"You know. Some kid, Duidchlane or something, is going around forcing everyone to treat each other well and do their best in class and stuff. Apparently, most of the contracts only enforce this rule in the seven years of Hogwarts, but some have it _for life!_ Anyway, have you? I've been, and so's Hannah, and actually, most of the students, and listen to this: _All of the_ _firsties_! That means that apart from a few separated cases, most people have friends from everywhere! Everyone's really confused about this, and some think it's a trick from Dumbledore, but others think a student made it up, and listen here: I think it's an Auror, sent by the Ministry 'cause they don't want any more wars! What do you think?"

Harry took another bite of stew, trying to process this. Fleur did _not_ talk so much, and neither did Tonks. Honestly...

"I don't know. Yeah, I've got mixed up in this contract business, but I can't tell you what I'm thinking." All true. "I'm just too tired... ugh..." Also true.

Susan kept talking, and Harry forced himself to listen. Hannah interrupted once or twice, her words more speculative and thought out. Harry looked at her.

Hannah flushed.

Oh, dear god.

He _really_ needed sleep.

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The paint stank; charmed to look and smell like blood. But getting that much blood was messy and difficult. In his plan, the following words would shine in the hallways:

 _THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED  
_ _ENEMIES OF THE HEiR - BEWARE!_

 _THE WAR WAS FOUGHT, BUT NOT YET WON  
IN TRUTH - IT HAS NOT EVEN BEGUN!_

 _THE BLOOD WOULD FLOW FOREVERMORE,  
UNTIL THE HEIR CLOSES THE DOOR_

He would need something else to open the Chamber. He'd need - no, not a horcrux, but a copy, a ghost, an _anima,_ and that particular ritual required the blood of the weakest, the innocent of the strongest species, and the love of a Banshee.

He could do it. Banshee's love was difficult, he'd have to save a life of one she'd wailed for.

Blood of the weakest - blood of a muggle child.

Innocent of the strongest species - a virgin (usually female) pureblood witch.

He'd go check on his family over the weekend, and just _happen_ to pick up a child, stun him, and take him back. Daphne Greengrass, heiress to the Greengrass family... no, she'd be noticed. Her little sister, Astoria. Astoria Greegrass, just barely ten years old, definitely of the strongest, definitely very innocent.

He'd sacrifice her. Then, he'd have his Anima separated, he'd put in a diary, like last time.

His Anima. His Ghost. When a wizard died, the 'Ghost' held a copy of the memories, and one last desire that kept them there. He didn't know his desire, didn't care for it. At any rate, he could bind it do a diary, and have it plan to open the chamber. After all, his Anima was stronger than anyones', so they'd write in it, and eventually, their anima would be in the diary, and his would control the student. It was perfect.

The ritual took only a few hours. He could do this that following weekend, and give the diary to a student 'accidentally', and then the words would be up by Halloween! Nagini was certainly happy with the plan, and the Basilisk was bound to do what its master said.


	20. Chapter 20

The next morning, Harry was in the library at 5:00 am, looking up the Triwizard Tournament and all its customs, courtesy of Luna Lovegood. He summarized his notes, including the basic rules and an entire section about the Yule Ball, and gave it to Cedric Diggory, also at Luna's insistence. Cedric shrugged, read it, re-read it, and thanked him.

It was almost ridiculous. He had asked Hogwarts about the loudest people, or the most power-hungry ones, and by the end of the week, Terrence Higgs had stopped challenging Hermione to a duel every day because none of the Slytherins _cared_ if she was a Mudblood or not. Also, Terrence had gotten several 'commoner' friends as well, thanks to the contract, so he couldn't call Hermione anything without being a Hypocrite.

But really... it was almost ridiculous, how quickly everyone figured out they were 'like-minded'. Good, smart people were desirable, because no one judged other based on economic status or political power. Although keeping the contract for life was harsh and almost impossible, if one goes for seven years without judging, then those habits will hopefully stick for life.

Now, it was time for the daily routine:

 _Hogwarts, who needs my help?_

I do. Years ago, before the ages of this time, my Master and Creators each added a protective measure. Three of these measure have been taken away and replaced with newer, more effective measures. However... one has left a Serpent-King, a Life-Taker, with eyes of gold and fangs of venom, as long as Jormangur, as strong as Fenrir. But the fourth's blood came again and ordered my master's Knight to turn agains the manor, and the snake attacked my Apprentices... 

_So..._

Dubhslain hesitated. Eyes of gold, the Life-Taker, the Serpent-King?

 _There is a basilisk? And..._

Do not hurt it. Make it so it _cannot_ kill a student... it is an animal, it follows orders. If it cannot kill, but it harms, then the Soul-Not-Body will not understand that we are thwarting him. 

_I... I don't understand._

Stop the Serpent from hurting my apprentices. Stop the man, the soul-in-body. My wisdom cannot pass to you in words; I am sorry. 

_I'll... I'll try to help you._

Basilisks... time to check out the library. Of course, the wards already forbade her from killing students, but it would be hard to figure out a safety measure so that if the basilisk was ordered to harm, she'd be able to do so. Who knew about Basilisks, or any type of magic creatures?

Hagrid did.

Running off of the astronomy tower and into the open air, Harry turned into a bird and dived down to Hagrid's hut. He had no clue how long before the basilisk was released and sent to the students, so he had better hurry.

"Hagrid, can a Basilisk's glare be stopped?"

"Yeah, O' course, how'd you think Newt Scamander escaped? He took'a mirror, an' looked at it. The guy turned to stone, petri'fied, or som'ing. I dunno. But he didn't _die,_ did'e?"

"Thank you!"

Harry flew to the owlry, grabbing spare paper (finally! Flourish & Boults begin keeping up with the modern day!) and a ballpoint pen before screwing a quick note:

 _Mum and Dad,_

 _Basilisk on the loose. Need as MANY MIRRORS as possible. Big, small, any shapes and sized. Don't matter much. But I need as many as possible._

 _Love, Harry_

 _P.S. When's the baby coming?_

Right. That was it. He gave it to a random owl, before hesitating. He'd hang up the mirrors in corners, so the students had a very big chance of turning into stone instead of dying. But he had no idea how to defeat whoever was planning the massacre... no, it was worse. Harry had no idea who the planner even was.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Tom Lockhart shivered slightly on his broom. He was flying over Greengrass manor on a Saturday morning, and flying without a broom took an unnecessary amount of energy. Not half an hour beforehand, he was inside the ministry, and a few choice spells later, several departments were in chaos. When Lord Greengrass flood into the ministry, it was far too easy to disillusion himself and snatch a hair off the man. Dropping it into the polyjuice potion Tom had placed within his vial, and _voila!_ Instant Lord Greengrass.

So now, after using legilimency on the man to find out the general area of his manor, Tom was flying, on a _broom,_ to the manor. He wished he could floo, but unfortunately, there were wards against that - one entered, had their blood checked automatically, and then if they weren't family, drained within a minute.

No, thank you.

So Tom flew to the edge of the property, right where the ward-line ended, and hovered for a bit. He looked over the valley, and smiled with grim satisfaction when he saw a little girl, running after a golden snitch.

A small charm, carefully aimed, and the snitch changed direction, flying to him. Tom drank the polyjuice, thanked the stars for robes that grew with him, and landed _just_ at the ward's edges.

Chasing the snitch, Astoria Greengrass caught sight of the man, and threw herself to him, running as fast as her little legs carried her.

"DADDY!"

Tom knelt, throwing out his arm, smiling. Astoria hugged him. Tom stunned the girl, and appeared out. He never even entered the wards, and now he was safe at the Forbidden Forest's edge, with a muggle boy, this little Pureblood girl, and a journal. Unwritten in, as of yet. It was quiet a shame his previous one was destroyed... but really, that just meant he could always try again.

Now, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Tom Gilderoy Riddle Lockhart looked at the Muggle boy, stolen off of the London streets, and the small Pureblood girl. Then he proceeded to carve runes into their skins.

When they woke up, Riddle only smiled. Their screams were rather... enjoyable.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Inside the diary, something squirmed. Riddle's _anima_ , trapped inside, had been given orders to enthrall a student to release the basilisk, and other the basilisk to kill any mud bloods it could find.

A horcrux could have done that, easily. But Riddle had forgotten something very important - the structure of a soul.

If a soul was a seven layer cake, then the horcrux was cutting a slice off of the cake and putting it into a different plate.

Removing your anima was _not_ like removing a horcrux. Instead, it was like removing one of the layers of the cake - it didn't have the complexity of a full human soul. It was simply a ghost.

A ghost - an imprint - that looked for one thing only, and once it was given, they could leave.

Myrtle looked for a boy that was head over heals for her, who would comfort her. Once she saw someone like that, for her, once she had that feeling, then the doors would be open, and she would leave. Professor Binns looked for an apple on his desk. Once someone, anyone, told him to his face that he had taught them something, that they were thankful that they had gotten him as a teacher, then he was able to leave. Nearly Headless Nick looked for someone who treated him as an equal. Who went to his Death-Day Party, who didn't go because of curiosity or courtesy, but because of friendship, or respect.

Riddle's Anima needed something before it could leave. It had no interest in going to open a Chamber - ghosts, after all, had no ambition.

But enthralling and controlling a student might give it what it wanted anyway. There was _no_ problem in pushing a soul out of the student's body and inhabiting it.

Tom, whistling, waved his wand, making the two children disintegrate. He pocketed the diary, wiping blood off of his sleeves where he had cut himself. He had been meticulous, and none of the children's blood was on him, even if it was splattered on the trees around.

He kept whistling even as he flew back to the castle (using the broom - flying without it was a signature move of Lord Voldemort, and he had no intention of alerting Dumbledore that he was back). He kept whistling as he left the broom in his office and as he 'accidentally' dropped a diary in the hallway. It was nearing Halloween, and he desperately wanted to get his plans in motion.

^^^LineBreak^^^

A student picked up the diary. The looked through it, realized it was empty - no blackmail to be used - and decided that keeping a diary was stupid. _He_ had no intention of writing blackmail for other students to find. But you never know... someone else, a different fool, might write in it. Perhaps even his enemy, the one that had stolen _everything_ for him.

Terrence Higgs opened the diary and wrote a single sentence:

 _To Hermione Granger: A Gift from a Secret Admirer_

Then, shutting the book, he went to the owlry to send Ms. Granger the... _gift_. He'd collect it every night, see what she had written. It would be interesting.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Diana Brendiv looked at Dowager Longbottom, opening her mouth to say something. Her wand was out, and she clearly had a curse in mind.

She needed to find out what the Dowager did to her daughter, and how to reverse it. But really, it was almost... _stupidly_ easily to corner the Dowager in the Ministry. A bit of Polyjuice to look like a muggle, the potion from Knockturn, the hair from a young muggle off of the street, and then in the Ministry, she asked the Dowager to bring her to a Department all the way across the entire building. In the hallways, her skin bubbling as the Polyjuice wore off, she became herself, and a quick "expelliarmus" had Longbottom's wand in her hand.

"What did you do to my daughter?"

"I'm sorry?" Dowager Longbottom drew herself up to her full height. This - _pleb_ \- had _dared_ to assume that Mrs. Longbottom would harm her daughter even if she _promised_ not to? Diana Brendiv opened her mouth to answer, rearing forward like a snake about to bite.

"You -" _snick_. Diana Brendiv never finished her sentence. Instead, she looked down, slowly, looking to see what the sound was. A long, thin knife pierced her torso, between her ribs, slightly below the heart. The blood poured down her beige robes, the belt stained a dark purple. Her hands came up to cup the wound, but it didn't help - her eyes were already half closed, her breathing shallow, and she'd die of blood loss within the minute. Fabrizio pulled out the the knife and took a step back.

Diana crumbled. Dowager Longbottom threw up.

Fabrizio stunned Mrs. Longbottom, and carefully began to position Diana's body to make it look like a suicide. He cleaned the hands completely, and pushed the blade back into her body, but with the hilt facing the front, her hands holding it. As if she had stabbed herself. A bit of magic, a bit of muggle technology... and it was as if she truly killed herself.

Then he Obliviated the Dowager and made her think that she had gone outside to go to the bathroom, and stumbled along the body. Just as the Dowager was waking up, Fabrizio disappeared to get his payment.

Lord Sirius Black paid in full.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Albus Dumbledore sighed. His headache had started on September 2nd, and it had been fluctuating in strength ever since. Eating Lemon Drops helped, but only for an hour or two, before the headache returned, fiercer than ever. Samhain was only a few weeks away, as well... and as a Light Wizard, the time when Dark Magic was strongest was slightly nerve-wracking.

Usually, slightly nerve wracking.

But this year... well, this year promised to be especially painful.

And he had no idea why he was so certain of it.

^^^LineBreak^^^

"I would like Blaise to finish him off." The Grandfather and Head of the Zabini family looked at Lacole Zabini. Her first, Fabrizio, had done well, and was doing well. He had only recently killed a woman and received payment, and it wasn't his first or last kill - as a matter of fact, out of all the youngsters, the Grandfather was pretty sure that Fabrizio was going to be his heir.

But Blaise... oh, he killed a man. But unless he did it often, the idea would start to repulse him. Blaise needed to get used to killing. And to killing alone.

"But I can do it just as well! Why does Blaise need to do this?" Of course, Lacole wished to protect her children. That was only natural. After what happened to Bice... well, he'd be worried if she didn't try to sneak in to protect Blaise Zabini.

On the other hand, his word was law.

"Blaise will kill Albus Dumbledore. You, on the other hand, have a different task. I would like you to investigate a new ward that spans across Hyde Park. It is in Muggle London only, and I am unsure as to who put it up. There are two magical signatures, and the last one who investigated it wasn't Family. He wasn't as skilled as he let on."

"Should I go now?"

"No. You'll check the ward on Halloween, when your magic is strongest. When another of our family is doing his job."

Lacole closed her eyes. This was the perfect way to make sure she couldn't sneak into Hogwarts, to check on her son, to do his job. The Grandfather was good at what he did, and she would not fail him. Failure meant removal from the family.

And that meant death.

Lacole bowed to her Head, and murmured her acceptance of his orders.

Then she turned and fled.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Door smiled at herself in the mirrors. In this day and age, pocket mirrors were easy to acquire. There were quiet a lot of them, as Richard had just returned from defeating _another_ monster, this time earning himself quiet a prize - several gold bars. These were exchanged for as many full-sized mirrors as possible. After all, if there were going to be small mirrors hanging around random hallways, why not large ones? Perhaps they could be doorways of some sort... Yes. That was a good idea.

With a smirk, Door slowly touched the full-sized mirrors, one at a time. There! Now, if one stepped through a mirror, they'd end up falling to a different mirror, and out of it. Like magical wormholes, and the only way to figure out where you'd end up would be to ask Hogwarts. After all, each mirror led to a different mirror each time, so there was no way to _plan_ to get to a certain area... unless Hogwarts moved the mirror you fell to, and that mirror ended up wherever you asked to be.

Wasn't she allowed to prank the students too?

^^^LineBreak^^^

In the Astronomy Tower, at twilight, owls of all shapes and sizes struggled to bring in mirrors. There were _tons_ of pocket mirrors, several larger ones - _why_ had he asked for this; there'd be girls hanging around each mirror large enough to show their face _all the time_! And, of course, _far_ _too many_ full-sized mirrors.

Harry groaned. He _really_ shouldn't be the one to deal with all of this mess. With a groan, he pulled out the piece of parchment that was stuck between a mirror and the floor - his letter. This wasn't a good spot to read and answer, so he placed it in his pocket, and quietly asked Hogwarts to _please_ , just get all these mirrors to wherever she thought they should be - just random areas and such. This was giving him a headache.

It was like in a _glass maze_! You look around, and you only see yourself and your reflections, and that's it! There was no way out, and all the mirrors were also reflecting each _other!_

He was _so_ done with this.

 _Hogwarts! PLEASE!_

You are aware that the small mirror in the corner has a trace of iron. And as you are growing, and your magic is fluctuating, I doubt that it is the mirrors that are causing you trouble. I will remove each mirror except that one. You may remove the iron. Then I will take it to a place on the grounds, outside, and I will take away the mirror. I strongly suggest that you start trying to control your magic... even if magic is not easily controlled during adolescence. 

Dubhshlain decided that he _hated_ iron. Hogwarts took the mirrors, and plenty of people blinked and gaped as randomly sized mirrors appeared in random places. Several students immediately fell through a few. The places where the mirrors were located were green dots on the maps of Hogwarts... or at least, those that were 'tunnels' were green dots.

Hogwarts decided that this was rather interesting to watch. Especially when a student fell though a mirror that was located above Professor Snape's private office.

The student took one look, turned, and ran.

Hogwarts decided to change the location of that mirror _immediately_. After all, she needed to ensure her apprentices' survival.

Meanwhile, Dubhshlain twisted his wand, removing the thin iron rod from behind the mirror and dropping it. Hogwarts sent to it a far, underground spot at the edge of her grounds. Somewhere near some mountains. The mirror simply slid up the wall and stayed there.

Harry rolled his eyes and stormed out.

Goddamned iron.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

A Secret Admirer, indeed. She was a _second year_. This usually started in fourth. Also, she was ugly, with bushy hair and large teeth. She was bossy, a leader, someone you followed, not someone you loved.

Also. This was a _diary._ Ha, no. Only idiots required diaries to remember how their days went... which could also be read by other people and used as blackmail. Then again, she could pretend to have a 'crush' on someone in the diary and then 'accidentally' let them read it and then manipulate them... Although that was too complicated and she was _not_ a people person.

Hermione closed her eyes for a minute and organized the facts:

She, a _second year ugly student_ , had gotten a _diary_ from a _secret_ _admirer_. Admirers usually sent flowers and jewelry and poems. Therefore, this was rubbish. It was some sort of prank, or something, and...

It wasn't _normal_. It made no _sense_.

First thing first: She had to show that she didn't care. But she wanted to use the note to see who sent it to her... so, after _examining_ it, Hermione quickly pocketed the note, and burned the copy she had transfigured out of air molecules.

There. Now everyone would think that she had _no care_ for this fellow. After all, "Secret Admirer" had been written with too-large letters, so the person across from her definitely saw it. The diary was knocked into her bag after she flipped through it with a raised eyebrow and a shrug. Now it looked like she was keeping it for the convenience of it.

No. She wasn't keeping it. She might forget and write something important down, and if someone went "Accio Hermione's Diary"... well, that was dangerous for her. So she was _definitely_ slipping it to someone.

And then summoning it later, for blackmail material.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Tom Lockhart blinked as a _Slytherin_ received the diary. No... that simply wouldn't do. After all, _no Slytherin would ever write something down_. That would be traced _way_ to easily.

So he went down to the table, told the Slytherin girl that he noticed her scholastic achievements, and asked to talk to her in private about an internship. And as he spoke about the classifications of 'Dark Magic' and the difference between Dark and Evil, he asked Hermione for some spare parchment, noticing that he needed a book or something to just to keep track of his thoughts.

She gave him the diary.

How... lovely.

A few minutes of instructing her and offering private lessons over the summer (which he _knew_ she couldn't accept - she was a mudblood, It was in no way possible for her to have the necessary connections, or a floo connection for that matter), he sent her on her way.

And decided to give Harry Potter the diary. After all, if the lad were controlled, he would be in no way a political opponent. Now, with the news of Brendiv's suicide (the mother, not the little chit who went to school) and Dumbledore's impending doom, only Dowager Longbottom would be left. After all, Fudge was easily swayed.

With a thin smile, he sent the diary into Harry's bag - it was an easy charm, making the object float through the air until it found the target.

^^^LineBreak^^^

 _Hello, I am Harry, and this is my Journal. If you find it, please burn it. Otherwise, it will spontaneously combust within five minutes of being in constant contact with someone who is not me. It will also combust within five minutes of being in constant contact with someone else's magic, so you can't use a spell to read this._

 _Hello,_ _Harry Potter. I am the Diary of Tom Riddle. I was made to help students with their homework or social issues. I hope I can help you. What do you need?_

 _Oh, Hello Tom. Did you know that you stink of Dark Magick? It's very interesting. After all, most Dark Magicks require a sacrifice. You smell of blood. And don't worry, I'm not going to turn you in._

Harry Potter was a bit squeamish about blood. But he didn't see anything, and as long as his imagination was silent, it was all good. Furthermore...

What would he care about the loss of human life? Fleur was safe. He helped students because he was bored. And this Diary was interesting. Dubhshlain wondered who the killer was - after all, once a man killed, he'd be able to do so again. Blaise had killed, but he was helping Luna, removing the debt the Fae owed her. And removing all the inhibitions of the killer and then giving them a potion of recklessness...

That would be interesting. He enjoyed a good duel.

Unfortunately, that thought was promptly shut away by a mildly disgusted Harry, who didn't condone murder.

Well, once he grew up, it'd be a different matter.

They looked down at what the Diary had written.

 _You seem awfully well-versed in Dark Magicks, Harry. I'm glad you trust me._

 _Trust is a rather... presumptuous word. Perhaps we could work out a business relationship?_

 _Maybe. What do you need?_

 _Nothing. I have everything. Or, at least, my problems are to be dealt with by me._

 _Perhaps they could be dealt with more easily with a bit of help or an outside perspective. Why don't you tell me about your day?_

^^^LineBreak^^^

Joan looked at Fleur. They had known each other since first year, studying together, making friends together. Fleur disappeared every summer, but they grew close again over the course of the year. And yes, Joan was aware of Fleur's Veela heritage, she knew that they wouldn't be friends once Beaxbatons ended...

But already?

Fleur was smiling, a chilling smile, and she was beautiful, but her face was too sharp. They had been best friends... and now? Now what happened? Was Fleur really maturing so early?

"You... you won't help me."

"No. Not unless you tell me what's in it for me."

"If you help me learn English, I'll..." What could Joan promise to a French Veela who was smart and powerful and had no interesting in gaining a love life? Well...

"I'm good at Defense. Not magic, but I can fight in the Muggle way. I have a Black Belt, third Don in Kempo Karate -"

"What?"

"I'm very good at Muggle hand-to-hand. So are you. But your sister, Gabrielle, isn't." And there it was, Joan nodded to herself, that flash of human in Fleur's silver eyes, the softening of the angles and the features becoming more... human. Less sharp, the colors less extreme - Grey instead of Silver, slight tan instead of glowing white-gold, pale blond instead of shining... whatever that color was.

"I'll teach her. Every day, I'll give her an hour of training if you, for the remainder of this year, do your best to teach me English. Deal?"

"Yes. Deal." Fleur decided that this was the most annoying stage - when human emotions were small but popped up at the most inopportune moments. Gabrielle was an example - she'll probably care for her sister until the last possible moment, and that'll confuse her Fae side to no end.


	21. Chapter 21

Hello, Harry. What do you wish to tell me? 

Harry had taken to asking the Diary about odd bits and pieces - what made a portrait's magic?, what was the pattern of the movement of Hogwart's stairs?, guess what day it is today.

In return, the Diary gave out a lot of information on... everything. Including the basics of how it was made, although not who made it.

That was alright. It was a long dance, certainly - each giving the other information, then slowly adding emotion into it, and perhaps, if he had eternity, Dubhshlain was certain he'd be able to convince the diary to be loyal to him and only him.

He didn't have eternity, and he was only twelve, while the Diary was made by a master manipulator.

It took a _month_ for Harry to realize that he was being _far too free_ with the Diary, giving off-hand comments about his feelings and such - only the fact that he had Fae blood saved him, because it meant that he wasn't human, his emotions and mind weren't quiet human, and the Diary, something wholly human, simply wasn't equipped enough to posses him.

Luck.

Dubhshlain wrinkled his nose. Only fools depended on Luck - unless they had trapped lady Luck into some sort of contract. Contracts were _very_ dependable. He didn't depend on luck. He depended on skill. While it took a _month_ to see the manipulation, he had spent the last two months researching... and dodging Professor Lockhart's probing look.

At any rate, the Diary was actually a... ghost. Trapped in a diary. (The technical term was an _Anima_ , but really, an _Anima?_ Who uses words like those?) Which meant it wanted something (preferably _not_ destruction, because then his plan would go to hell.)

Speaking of his plan...

The black-haired boy wrinkled his nose, dipped his quill into his ink-pot, and quickly scribbled down a sentence:

 _You are an anima in a diary. If you don't tell me what you want I will destroy you by using Fiendfyre._

This was a bluff. He had no idea how to use Fiendfyre. He could cast the spell, alright, but controlling it? No, thanks. (Although, Fleur probably knew how, what with her connection to fire...) He kept writing.

 _Or by dipping you in Basilisk Venom_. He had no clue if that one would work... but Hogwarts had a Basilisk, so why not?

 _Either you tell me what you want, or I will destroy you. You have one minute to start writing._

For an entire second there was nothing. Then, in handwriting that got shakier and more sprawling as time went on, the Diary began to answer.

How dare you tell me what to do? Do you know who I am? I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, I am everything and everyone and NOTHING can defeat me. Do you know what happened to people who tried to destroy me? Let me tell you something:

When I was six, there were a bunch of children in the Orphanage where I grew up. They laughed at me; they threw rocks. They killed the snake I was talking to, they threw the rocks and one of them hit the snake, it just happened and they _laughed_ , and their eyes were just _laughing_ , at _me,_ how dare, they and

The rest of the sentence was just... anger. It wasn't legible, just anger. Harry was almost impressed: that was a lot of rage to contain within a single person.

I had to show them that they couldn't walk on me, show them that I could _hurt_ them, show them that they were far more defenseless that I was, show them that I was king. So I went to the leader of the group, and I found his pet rabbit, and I controlled it and I made it hang itself from the rafters, and I took the two sidekicks and I took them to a cave, and I showed them that I was King.

The leader of the group looked at me with fear in his eyes. It was pathetic; I don't need the fear of _cretins;_ they owe it to me because the omegas fear the alphas of the pack.

So I took the two sidekicks - the betas - into the cave. I went into their minds, and I _destroyed_ them for hurting me, for the look in their eyes, because they looked at me like I was nothing! I am Judge, Jury, and Executioner! I am Everything and Everyone!

Then Dumbledore came, told me I had magic - of COURSE I HAVE MAGIC, I am SPECIAL, ruler of all of those stupid children, and they looked at me with fear in their eyes, because I am better, of course I had magic! - and Dumbledore looked at me with Pity. As if I would be nothing without him; as if I depended on Dumbledore. And he set my wardrobe on fire, he showed me he was the best, the king, and I was nothing.

I decided I would kill him for that pity. I am _better_ than anyone's pity.

I am better than Death itself, and I set out to prove it. I decided to make Horcruxes.

The first one was a Journal like this one, made from the death of a girl - Ravenclaw - named Myrtle. She tried to lead me around; tried to show me around as if I were her arm-candy. A pet. She was a means to an end, because she had the wrong look in her eyes - Lust and appreciation of the wrong sort.

People should appreciate my power, not my body. 

So I killed her for treating me as if I were less. I am not a pet.

I went to my muggle... relatives. Tom Riddle Senior and his parents. This was in my sixth year. And my biological father looked at me with _fear_ and _disgust_. I killed him for it. I am _powerful_ , yes, a little fear is _normal_ , but _disgust?_ That was forbidden. I knew why he was disgusted - I was proof of his weakness, that he succumbed to a Love Potion and ran off with my mother.

That gave him no right to look at me like that, to judge me like that. I killed him and his parents. I framed Morfin. I made the Gaunt Family Ring a horcrux. It's still in the Little Hangleton shack.

There was an old woman. I killed her for treating Helga Hufflepuff's cup and Salazar Slytherin's locket with such disrespect. That was a part of history, a part of me, a part of my world, of her world. She was a fool to treat it as if it were nothing.

Her death made Hufflepuff's cup a horcrux. It was placed into Gringotts, the safest place on Earth... apart from Hogwarts.

Mr. Longbottom was an Auror. His son, Frank, wasn't nearly as good. A child, especially compared to his father, Neville's grandfather. Mr. Longbottom was a brilliant duelist - he fought with me once in Single Combat. 

He looked at me with respect. Respect and Hate. No fear, which was good. No acceptance, which was bad. 

I killed him and used him for the horcrux in Salazar's locket, to honor him. He was a warrior. A leader. A king. He respected me, not just hated or feared me. The Horcrux was placed in the same cave near the orphanage... the place where I destroyed the minds of two of the children which threw rocks at me. 

Ravenclaw's Diadem was placed into Hogwarts, into the Room of Requirement. I had killed a little girl who stuck out her tongue at me. She looked at me with loathing and a bit of curiosity. 

No respect, no acceptance. Fool. 

And now, I think that I have told you enough not to be destroyed, yes?

Harry gaped. This was... information. By the loads. It was terrifying, what Tom was unafraid to do...

 _Oh, most definitely, Tom. You are a very good storyteller; and you must be very resourceful to start a war all by yourself._

Tom was an enemy - which meant that he deserved respect. If you didn't respect someone, they weren't enemies, they were obstacles. Harry blinked at the diary - his words weren't being sucked in. There was a long moment of silence. Then the Diary's pages started fluttering, rapidly turning back and forth until a wind was coming from the pages. Ghostly hands forced themselves out, then a head, torso, feat.

Harry stumbled back. He had forgotten to make a contract to stop the diary from hurting him! His breath caught in his throat, and he desperately grabbed at his wand. He really didn't want to die, and panic was the wrong response, but what was he supposed to do? A MURDERER WAS CRAWLING OUT OF THAT BOOK!

Tom Riddle stepped out of the Diary, looking, to all the world, not a day over sixteen - the moment before he first split his soul. Harry held his breath.

"Thank you." Tom whispered, quietly, as though it pained him to say the words. Then he faded away with a sigh, the ghost - Anima - leaving this world into the next. The enchantments on the Diary fell apart.

Harry blinked for a moment, deciding that his comment must have been both respectful and accepting, then picked up a parchment and began to compose a letter to Fleur.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Fleur Delacour smirked to herself. Joan's English was going very, very well. This was helpful, because it meant that Gabrielle was doing well in muggle self-defense. Fleur frowned at her younger sister. The girl was pushing herself, learning quickly and steadily, it was true. But she was also very close to the people that Fleur forced to protect her, and she was happy, and there was no competition... long and short, Gabrielle was doing what Fleur would have done if she hadn't met Harry - she would have been happy and better than everyone, but that's it. Not forcing herself.

Gabrielle would enter into her full heritage at twenty-one, and Fleur couldn't help but think that she could have done much better.

Those thoughts were knocked out her head when a letter arrived... a letter from Harry.

Fleur began to read. It was basically an explanation of the entire Diary experience. Apparently, he had checked the Room of Requirement, the Diary wasn't a horcrux... and he was inviting her over for Yule, asking her to come with him as he went searching for the horcruxes... or rather, to check if the Horcruxes were defeated by Dumbledore and Sirius and Remus.

The girl smiled to herself. Yes, she would love to spend winter vacation with her Harry. This was the perfect moment to show off her fire powers just in case a horcrux wasn't destroyed.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Tom Lockhart was smiling, stroking Nagini gently.

It was All Hallow's Eve, Samhain night, and Dumbledore was to die.

Diana Brendiv was already dead, that was of no concern... perhaps he could hire Gringotts to set up the wards to kill stupid people, although that would cost a lot. Then again, Dumbledore was going to be dead - if Tom took the damn phoenix and sold it to Gringotts, the goblins would probably agree to anything.

Also, teaching was a lot of fun.

The students were learning quite a lot, and they liked him, asking questions. _This_ was what he craved - people looking at him like he was one of them, the respect, the trust, all of it.

Well, it was too late now. Now, he wanted more.

He wanted power and revenge and anything else would be met with laughter. Today, Dumbledore's death, would be just the beginning.

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"You know, Luna, I am not a good person - or, at least, I have to do very bad things."

"I know. There are very few good people. Like Neville, or Hermione. Everyone else has good qualities."

"That's not what I meant. Luna... I'm... this is not... that's not... how do I explain this?"

"Blaise, there is no need to explain. Do you know Nero, the last Emperor of Rome? He had a girl he loved. He was a bad person, but he loved a girl and she loved him back."

"Nero ended up committing suicide, and the girl left him behind long before he did that. Luna, please try to listen: I have to do something tonight. Something... not nice."

"Blaise, I am not a good person either. I just have no need for retribution. I have no qualms with wrongdoing. The thing is, I have no need of it. I have a home in Hogwarts, and while I wouldn't be able to kill or do anything of the sort, I already know what you are."

"Luna, how -"

"I like learning, I like hanging out with you, and just because you do bad things in your spare time doesn't mean I shouldn't have to stop hanging out with you."

Blaise paused. They two of them were going down a corridor, one that split off right here - one path going to the Great Hall, where the feast would start in minutes, the other path going to the Headmaster's office.

The Headmaster was in there. He had been eating his lemon drops, soaked in potions, for the last two months. Blaise had his wand and a few knives and a job to do. _Mio Dio, Quirrel's blood was so red... will Dumbledore's blood be red, too? Will his eyes haunt me too; will his falling and chocking on his blood haunt my nights as well?_

The boy took a shuddering breath in. The blond wisp in front of him had her head tilted, her eyes wise.

"What you will do is wrong. I forgive you. Don't forget to clean your knives." The waif drifted into the Great Hall, and Blaise let out his breath. She was... How did she know? How could she accept him after knowing?

Didn't she know what killing someone meant; what a _life_ meant?

Because he knew. And he would have to re-learn it all over again. Blaise turned and marched up the stairs to the Headmaster's office.

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Albus Dumbledore hummed to himself as he straighted his hat. Tonight was the Halloween feast. Everything was going well - Lockhart even turned out to be a competent teacher, surprisingly enough. Of course, this would have to be looked into; the quick change from the lying man who couldn't hold a wand correctly to a competent - no, brilliant - and charismatic leader was troubling.

But it could wait.

Then, someone knocked on his door. Albus quickly sat behind his desk, made the lemon drops available, and waved his wand to open the door.

Blaise Zabini stepped inside.

"Yes, my boy?"

Albus Dumbledore should have opened his mouth to say "Avada Kedavra".

He didn't, and he wasted precious seconds, during which the Zabini Assassin completed his plan. Blaise had known that Dumbledore was powerful - trying to use magic on him was stupid, potions or not. However, wandless magic was now impossible - so, without a wand, Dumbledore was an old man who had a phoenix for protection.

The phoenix had to die - it would be reborn that instant, but a chick couldn't help the man.

So when Dumbledore was asking him the question, Zabini did two things: throw a knife at the phoenix (making it burst into flame - it was dead) and quietly saying "Accio all wands on Dumbledore."

Dumbledore paled. Zabini had two wands at his feet and one in his hand - his own, with the Elder Wand and Dumbledore's own at his feat.

"Are you here to kill me?"

"Yes. You don't need to forgive me. Luna already did, that's all I need." Zabini threw his other knife at Dumbledore, hitting his heart. Then he went to Fawkes' perch, scooped the knife out (careful not to touch the baby bird), and slit Dumbledore's throat. Just in case.

After that, he cleaned and pocketed both knives and the wands, shuddering at the odd feeling of one of them. It felt like... well, like Harry, sometimes. It certainly didn't like him. And Luna could keep Dumbledore's other wand.

Zabini hurried to the feast.

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Luna wandered over to Theodore Nott at the Slytherin table, noticing the empty seat on either side of him. Of course, one of those empty seats just had an invisible girl on it.

Theo blinked at her through his glamour.

Luna didn't see through the glamour, she just knew it was there. Like she knew about the invisible girl. She knew important things.

So she leaned over and whispered into his ear the only thing he ever wanted to hear.

"The girl's name is Bice Zabini, your father gave both of you a Glasgow Smile, she loves you, and if you take Bice back to her mother, Lacole Zabini, they would adopt you and make both you and Bice as happy as possible."

Luna skipped away and Theodore immediately began to write a letter to Lacole Zabini. There was no way he was going back to his father's house.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Dubhshlain shuddered as Blaise handed him the wand. It smelled of fae; of power and hate and he wanted it. Moreover, Harry wanted it too. It felt like the cloak, like home and not-home and something odd. Something very... fae. Then Dubhshlain heard its hiss - _You are not my master._ Of course, they weren't actually words. But the sense of disapproval and rejection were hard to miss.

 _Don't worry_ , Dubhshlain answered, _I will be._ It was like his cloak, 1/3 of a group, and he wanted the wand to be his. And he wanted the other third.

The wand was pulling toward the teacher, Professor Lockhart.

It was his.

It also wanted to kill him, because that was how the wand worked. Or, if not kill, defeat somehow. And Dubhshlain's strength was contracts.

This would require his signature. The only thing requiring a teacher's signature was a book out of the Restricted section of the library. Ergo: he needed to look into a book that was restricted, but not dangerous enough for Lockhart to reduce to sign.

How about a book on muggle fighting? That would seem plausible - he was good at magic fighting and he wanted to learn the muggle method, which was only written about in the restricted section because it was about fighting.

Ignoring the feast in front of him, Dubhshlain pulled out some parchment and began to write, using his invisible ink pen.

 _Whoever signs this parchment anywhere at all agree to follow all the direct orders of Dubhshlain, also known as Harry James Potter._

 _The signer of this parchment agree never to try to gain power through any way, shape or form. They agree never to murder or execute anybody. They will do their utmost to avoid killing or permanently injuring anyone. If they are a teacher, they must still teach the students to defend themselves and answer any impersonal questions factually._

 _They may not manipulate anybody outside of socially acceptable norms. They must answer all of Dubhshlain's (also known as Harry James Potter) questions factually, telling the full truth and nothing but the truth, in a easily comprehensible manner._

 _The person signing this parchment may not let anyone know about this contract - he must not let anyone know he signed a contract, nor what was inside of it, nor must he give any indication that he signed a contract - with the exception of manipulation out of socially accepted norms, he cannot treat anybody differently after this._

On the other side of the parchment, in visible ink and hastily scrawled, where the words ' _This teacher _ gives me, Harry Potter, permission to look into the Restricted Section of the Library for a book about Muggle Fighting'_

That should do it.

Now he just had to make sure Professor Lockhart signed with his true name... which meant he needed to find out the true name. Sirius would definitely send him some Veritiseum if he thought it was for a prank... He could ask the House Elves to make sure Lockhart drank some of it... and presto! Enter the classroom, ask for his true name... Although, perhaps he should also ask the Elves to put Lockhart to sleep before he entered the classroom, so Harry could tie him up and such - no need to give the Professor any chance of getting away.

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Lacole Zabini smiled at The Daily Prophet. This news was rather... well, wondrous. It seamed that her dear Blaise had managed to kill Dumbledore. Judging by the letter from him, it seamed that he also found a dear young girl who forgave him for it. Well, Xenophillius was always insane, so his daughter may be insane as well, but that was beside the point. Both parents had been smart and quick-witted, and Luna's mother hated stupidity more than bad morals. It seamed this trait passed on to her daughter.

Excellent.

If only Fabrizio would find someone as wonderful... although, he was always looking at some pretty Italian thing, maybe he had finally met someone he'd keep longer than a month.

^^^LineBreak^^^

It took a few days for people and their positions to settle down.

Professor McGonnagal was Headmistress.

Professor Flitwick was Deputy.

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were going to split Transfiguration and Head of Gryffindor - both doing some of the work for both classes.

Horace Slughorn and Severus Snape were going to split Potions and Head of Slytherin - although Severus Snape only taught the Seventh Years Potions, as he also taught the Occlumency elective.

Those were all the names that Professor Lockhart recognized. The Headmistress had also hired another Charms teacher to teach the younger years, another Herbology teacher to do the same, and had added so many more electives - with a teacher for each - that Tom was left wondering why he didn't receive an assistant.

Although, maybe it had to do with the fact that he was the youngest teacher there... and that both he and the students protested having anyone else teach them DADA.

Tom sighed. It had been a long day - he spent it 'investigating' Dumbledore's death, teaching students, making the body look like it had been bitten by a Basilisk so that the snake can be blamed when he 'found' it, the House Elves were late delivering his tea, and he was trying to figure out where his Diary was and why there was no "Chamber of Secrets" fiasco going on...

And now there was someone knocking on his door?

Tom fell asleep just as Harry Potter entered the classroom.

He woke up tied to a chair, with anything that may be used to help escape thrown onto a desk. His wand, some quills and parchment from his pockets, his tie and outer robe - even his shoes and socks had been removed!

"What is your name?" Harry Potter's voice was polite and cool, as if they were meeting at a business party. And to his horror, Tom found himself answering.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle in Gilderoy Lockhart's body." Had the Elves spiked his tea with Veritaseum? They would pay for that! And so would this brat! He needed a plan - screaming would help; the castle had STONE WALLS and there were no nearby portraits to hear...

Harry took a step back. This was Voldemort? Um... "Silencio." There. Now Voldemort could scream and get the whole school. Although, would anyone hear?

Anyway. This was VOLDEMORT. The wand he wanted was VOLDEMORT's.

There went his plan. He couldn't very well Obliviate Lockhart of the experience and ask him to sign the contract - he wouldn't sign it "Tom Marvolo Riddle in Gilderoy Lockart's body". What was he supposed to do now? Tom would try to kill him!

So...

Harry pulled out the contract and placed in on a desk. Then, using a sticking charm, he made sure Tom's left hand was stuck to the back of the chair - and then did the same to the soles of his feat, so that Tom was stuck to the floor. Lastly, the back of Tom's shirt was stuck to the back of the chair.

Then, Harry untied Tom's right hand and put the contract on Tom's knees.

"I can't do the killing curse, but I can give you a 'reducto' to the head." Dubhshlain gave Tom a quill and ordered him to sign with his full name.

Tom looked at the boy for a minute. For a moment there, Harry had almost panicked, and then... it was as if a switch went of in his head. His eyes grew cold and calculating, and his lips pressed into a firm line. Potter worked quickly and efficiently, the spells cast easily, and the threat was clear.

He didn't doubt that Potter could kill him. He leaned down and signed the document, gasping as his magic accepted the terms of the contract.

This wasn't some child's play - the contract was finely made and tailored, and Tom couldn't see a way around it, not with his magic automatically informing him of what the contract contained.

Harry smirked.  
"I order you to teach the students as best as you can. Kill Nagini. You cannot let anyone know of what happened today. Also... stop investigating Dumbledore's death. And give me this wand." Tom took the wand Harry offered him and promptly gave it back.

Harry laughed, a slightly deranged sound, and it was accompanied by a shower of sparks from the wand. Then the silencio was taken off of Tom and so were the sticking charms, and the boy skipped out of the classroom.

Fleur was going to find this interesting.

^^^LineBreak^^^

Fleur decided that convincing parents that you were going to spent Winter Break traveling with a little boy was far to easy to be true.

Then again, the boy was twelve, only a little boy, and her mother had helped raise him. It probably also helped that Fleur and Harry were clearly going to get married once they were old enough.

Actually, the entire trip was disappointing - they went to the cave to find scorch marks (clearly everything had been cleared out), snuck into Hogwarts to find Ravenclaw's Diadem clean, offered the Diadem to the goblins in return for Hufflepuff's cup... which was ALSO clean, went to little Hangleton, found a few ashes and a stone, which Harry took...

And that's when things began to get interesting. A sharp wind blew, and Fleur knelt without a thought - this was her king.

She didn't know how she knew that, but she did. He had a cloak hanging off his shoulder, a wand in his left hand and the stone in his right and Fleur knew right then and their that they were both done with this world - or will be, soon enough.

Harry had defeated Voldemort. If he wanted to complete Hogwarts, that was fine by her, but as Harry ordered her to rise, the young Veela knew that they were going to the Land of the Fae as King and Queen, because this world only held so many entertainments.


End file.
